Fitting You

Knock at the door. I get up and answer.
It’s raining hard outside.
Your hair is perfect, the way it falls from the water.
Slowly drips from the tips.
Your eyes grab and pierce me, makes me feel the way the rain does:
Captivating to watch, relaxing, comforting, and familiar.
The water beads down your beautiful face with a sparkle, like your eyes.

It’s cold out in the dark rain.
I pull you in and hold you close, firmly and gently,
I rub your arms and back.

You gaze at me with those wondrous eyes.
I brush my hand on your cheek, your red wet lips are quivering.
I outline your bottom lip with my thumb to the center dip, and it glides to hold your chin.
I pull and lean in with my still dry lips,
and meet yours.
It seems like the most romantic thing.

I slowly pull your soaked shirt off.
You have no objections.
My hands glide down the back of your arms, and move to the small of you back,
I pull you in, and the kiss intensifies.
We feel the passion, the heat, tension.
I hold you close and tight.
We fit perfectly together.

Your kiss is as right as rain, soft as a rose, sweet as sugar.
A red juicy strawberry fitting seamlessly around my lips.
I can’t explain how your body, your skin, how you feel
As I stroke your shivering body.

Is this passion? Is this love? Desire, lust, fantasy?
A dream? Heaven or Hell?
Or all of the above?
Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.
It makes us happy.