The first time you open your eyes.
The first touch, the first flicker of electricity, the pause and the temptation.
Exploring, rushing, guessing; finding with your hands the goosebumps, the plains, the plumes. A first kiss, a first time, a first: fresh, fleeting, tightening and releasing.

I realized it just one day, casually--
pushing the hair out of my face, looking down to the ground, surrounded by people with whom my voice is too quiet and I am just not good enough--

I produce smiles for you and I fuck for you.

The the newness is there beneath the skin, the layer on top of everything, the mountain of emotion, and pressure and tension and fear--I am scared, too.

I think about the first time for someone else, not for me. The first time and the earthquake that follows. The ocean that spills from their eyes. The ocean that creeps up around us. Our epidermis against the meniscus.

We are two sea monsters and we're waiting for the moon.

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