My soul is resurrected every time your lips touch mine.

Like vapor and smoke eroded from the washed-away parts of myself I thought I had to let go of, I become alive again.

Glistening in all my beauty. Shining brightly in your arms.

Breath rushes into me, my heart bangs hard. Earthquakes quiver under my skin, and the euphoria of butterflies punch in my stomach, even though I am innately comfortable, inexplicably at ease with you.

As you kiss my cheek and nibble my neck, I surrender. You patiently undo the silver buttons on my tie-dye turquoise top, one at a time, until my heart is delicately exposed and revealed to you. My muscles relax.

“Here I am, my love,” my body says, with a fierce confidence that is not always customary for me. 

In the sublime depths of this sensuous relaxation with you—I find new energy, joy—the dancing of these words clattering together to an impossible rhythm in my heart.

I become alive again.

Emboldened by the supreme gentleness of your touch. Inspired to create.

We dive deeper.

You hold me firmly in the palms of your hand and look at me like I’m the masterpiece you thought you’d never find—and I bloom.

I bloom, bursting in all my intensity. Hot pink petals shoot out of my skin, as I unfold in tangerine flames and a cacophony of dripping poetry. I am wild. Loud. Luscious and sexy. I am no longer a scattered wisp of a thing, for all of my missing parts return to me. I am a woman, whole, strong, kind and powerful as hell.

You are not scared.

You pull me closer, telling me that you only ever want more of me, never less.

You are the love of a lifetime. Do you know that?

For every time our lips meet, we reunite. Like the first moment I saw you, when you saw me—walking up to me at a cafe, my golden hair shining brightly in the subtle glow of the early evening sun, my cells waiting to be greeted by the stunning width of your smile.

It feels familiar. 

Maybe we’ve spent lifetimes in spinning galaxies near Jupiter, resting in each other’s arms, exploring the cavernous grooves and valleys of each other’s souls. Maybe we always knew we would meet. Maybe your face has flickered in my mind a thousand times before it all led up that moment of seeing you in the flesh.

I am still swept off my feet just at the thought of you; I am still crazed at how you make me feel. Yet this love, it grounds me.

Because it’s not just a pretty fantasy, based on holographic illusions of who I imagine you to be. It’s real. It’s raw and unzipped at the seams. It’s based on who we truly are, not who we wish each other to be.

And the best part—you challenge me.

You look me in the eyes and call me out on my sh*t.

I challenge you. I look you in the eyes and call you out on your sh*t.

Transformation roars between us. Change happens. The changes we thought we could never make—the changes that reach so far into us, into our deepest branches and most ingrained stories and habits and beliefs. Our cells shake and rearrange so intensely that it hurts sometimes.

Our connection is the fire I needed.

It reminds me of the fire I am.

I burn—I step out of my own way and smile, falling even deeper into your arms. Color rushes into my face, as your calloused hands softly caress me. In these moments, I feel beautiful. Unashamed to be full of feeling, to be sensual, to be deeply immersed in the glorious buds and leaves of my femininity.

Femininity that meets your masculinity with an explosion of lily-scented devotion.

We dance to waves only we can see.

The past becomes the ashen remains we weep for, not sweeping any of it under the carpet. But honoring it all, as praying to our tears paves the way for new emerald forests to take root in our hearts. We transform, like marble, into the fantastic masterpieces we are meant to be.

It’s your body hugged up close against mine, your tongue frolicking with mine, and we both roar with pleasure. It’s ecstasy. Every time we make love, it is a celebration: of life, of pain, of truth, all we have lost, of all we are stepping into.

In your arms, I am home.

All the curtains of my masks and pretenses drop, falling and shattering on the ground—and I am naked—magnificent, in being vulnerable with you.

Worship me. I’ll worship you. 

This love is not ordinary. It is the love of a lifetime. It is soul f*cking deep—outrageously passionate and utterly real.

You hold me tight and tickle my skin, but you touch my soul. You caress the darkest parts of me I thought I had to hide.

You love those parts the most.

For it’s no doubt that you are a courageous lover, bringing the heat of your gaze to every single part of me. And so am I—life has made us both warriors. So I meet and match your blazing intensity, and gaze boldly back at every part of you.

It’s intense. To be this seen, to be this understood, and be heard and loved madly in spite of it all. It’s empowering.

I step into my power. You step into your power.

We shine brilliantly together. Violet and red and turquoise rush before our eyes, the crashing together of two universes, and the starry birth of our universe, our life together.

So our lips meet once again, my darling—sending shivers down to our toes, as we climb higher and higher, firmly entrenched in the present, our prayers becoming fire and sandalwood smoke on the quivering lips of the divine.

The goddess hears us make love, she sees us entangled and sweaty in the sheets—so sensual—for it is art. When your fingertips meet mine, when you feel my hot breath on your neck, when we honor each other souls fiercely—it is art.

I love this art we splash and laugh and create beautifully, boldly—together.

I love you. I am able to because I finally love myself. And I realize the strangest thing of all—your love teaches me to love myself; your love reminds me that I can be whole.

This is the love of a lifetime. It is a blessing. A dance. A prayer.

When two souls meet for the thousandth time, rekindling passion that spanned centuries, it is to be savored. Every drop.

You are the love of a lifetime.

So fall with me, rise with me, shine with me—I only ever want you.

Let’s light up the world together as we heal, as we transmute our pain, as we turn the darkness into love.

I don’t know what brought us together, but it was something mystical, something breathless, something wild that traveled surreptitiously on the cool summer breeze—because I know our paths were always meant to enmesh in perfect time. Not a moment before we were both truly ready.

Because the feeling of your heart is etched firmly in mine, in the silver thread that now binds us together.

No, this is not ordinary.

Maybe it’s proof that God exists; that there is a more delicious mystery to reality than what we see and hear on a daily basis.

This love grows and flourishes between us—it is bliss. It is heaven. It is hard work. It is explosive. It is twisted in knots of utter confusion sometimes. It is revealing everything inside us that we never wanted to see, but needed to see—in order become who we truly are.

It is the love of a lifetime. It is meant to be cherished, held close to our chests with care.

It is meant to be savored to the last drop.

It is meant to teach us everything we couldn’t learn by ourselves.

And so it is.

~

Author: Sarah Harvey

Image: Gabby Orcutt/Unsplash

Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock