Unashamed in The First Life

Sometimes I fear writing intimately.
Like it exposes me.
He makes me unafraid of a lot.

He turns me.
Palm at the back of my skull.
Fingers tangled in my hair.
Completely wrapped around me.

He waits for me.
Holds me so close I melt right into him.
His warmth and safety.
Lips on my neck, and the “mmm” noise he makes raises the hair on my skin.
He tells me I’m beautiful at my most vulnerable .
Watches me curl up and become defenseless.
A word like this in the most bare moment I could be in, is like a warm sword right through my ribs.

His pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes.
He watches me so closely.
Even when I feel the urge to rake my nails down his back, I can’t bring myself to do it.
He softens me. Takes me from the fire I know and brings me into the water with him.
We lull through waves together.
In sync and in motion, fluid and effortless.
He’s the wind over the waves, the thrill of the depth, the vastness of the unknown.
He’s also the calming sound of waves breaking on the shore.

He is so delicate with me .
Understanding and attentive.
Like he sees though everything and straight to the girl that is insecure, afraid, and has a history of abuse and control.
He keeps his word. Keeps me in his plans.

I can be me.
Exposing every inch.
And not be scared of what he might see, or what he might think, or the things he may learn.
The imperfections.
Bumps, bruises, not so beautiful marks.
Things I cringe at in my reflection and I know he’s seen them closer than I.

With every moment I let him know me, I fear more.
My heart beats faster with an edge of hesitation.
Fear is hard to extinguish once it has been ignited.

I just have to remember that every loss I had was eventually a welcome one.
Every love was a chance to grow.

Beginnings are easy, I know, so I should let it be.