The first time I saw the whole of you, we stood beneath running waters
I was worried I was too tall
You were nervous but it never showed
You kissed me, with tequila on our breath and all the hope of new beginnings

The first time I understood how serious you were, we walked laps of a lake in secret
Kissing behind tiny houses while you proclaimed that everyone should know
We held hands in gloves and I was dizzy with the stillness of the lake and the whirling of my heart

The first time I understood what was developing – that we were more than simply magnetic bodies, we were in a cabin in Venice
I understood because our lips were locked only just less intensely than our eyes were

The first time I understood that you would make me do brave silly things we stood atop a water tower and ran right off the edge, hands clenched together…for my sake, not yours
The indigo water washed us clean as our veins coursed with thick, Greek coffee
It was then I realised how scared I could be that any harm could ever come to you. And how you weren’t scared at all

The first time I truly realised none of it would be as sweet if it wasn’t with you was at the Point where two oceans wrapped around our little hut home and every afternoon you drew me out onto the surf board when I wasn’t sure that I could move another muscle and you heralded my wins like they were your own, in wetsuits that felt thicker than our skin

First thing this morning, you rolled over and lay your arm out so that I could move in close
You always smell like the perfect mix of salt and sunscreen to me and I always look like I’ve tumbled straight from the ocean
Sand in our bed and firsts left to be shared, somewhere nearest this kind of blue.