For J.

The day you kissed me on the street was the day you took my breath away. Literally.

The second that you took my face in your hand and turned my mouth to yours, my heart stopped for a minute.

But I began having trouble breathing before that moment. It started when you put your hand on the small of my back to guide me around the rushing tide.

I swallowed hard.

Then that first kiss left me completely breathless. When you asked how it was, I could only say nothing because I wanted another kiss so that I could breathe again.

The street around us disappeared. I have no idea who walked past us. I was blacking out from desire. From lack of oxygen. From meeting you.

And so it goes on still. Your eyes are these magic colors of hazel nut brown and green. When you look at me, I forget what I am thinking.

But when I think of you, it is the night we had the chairs outside on the grass, and you talked to me with your beautiful lilting voice. The world disappeared around us but for the cool air. I would have sat there until dawn.

Alas, you had to leave. And in the leave taking, again my breath disappears for a moment. A moment longer each time you take leave.