When all the dendrite and calcified layers of conformity sloughed off and fell to the ground in a pile at your feet, you stood there, naked before me. Exposed as originally intended, this smile of the child with nothing to fear and no one to please playing on your face.

I wanted to step in front of you and into you, so close our skin felt like it’d melt into each other’s without even one inch actually touching. We’d stand there, absorbing the other through every cell, our spirits colliding, intermingling; you permeating me with your sense of wondrous abandon and secrets held quietly in your heart. At that moment, I not only knew you but was you. I was in you. You were in me. Where was the dividing line?