A Piece of Me

There's always been this part of me deep inside that I keep hidden from the rest of the world. Because it's different. Because it's soft, and fragile. Because it's very small, but a very important part of what makes me who I am.

This is the part of me that dreams of sitting by the shore, feeling the sand between my toes, the sun on my skin, the smell of the salty ocean breeze all around and through my hair, and the cold water slowly lapping over my legs.

This is the part of me that yearns to sit under the dark, vast canvassed sky, watching diamond glittered stars glimmer overhead. The part of me that is in endless awe, because these are planets, and worlds, far different from my very own. And millions and millions of lightyears away. Unfathomable.

This is the part of me that longs to sit quietly, and feel -- everything.

I remember the first time I arrived at the cabin. I had never before experienced the kind of quiet that I first heard there. Peaceful and serene. I woke up at 6 AM, before anyone was up. I quietly picked up my shoes, my sweater, my blanket, and sat outside by the wilted, charcoal that just last night was a blazing campfire. I closed my eyes and listened. To nothing. And it was beautiful.

I continued to sit there until everyone was up, with tea and toast, legs huddled together, bundled up in a blanket, and completely content with the world.

Content. This is the part of me that lets itself be filled with simple, quiet serenity.

The part of me that cries when my friends are sad, that is overjoyed when they are. The part of me that quietly floats and vibrates when I listen to music that moves. The part of me that is filled with happiness when I see my little cousin grow to be such a good person. The part of me that loves grandly all the little things about life.

This is the part of me that thinks of you, and your hands, and your lips. The part of me that dreams about you all the time. That worries what you think about, and how you feel. The part of me that loves so deeply, I can't even begin to describe how overwhelming such a little part of me can be. Especially towards you.

This is the part of me that two people have ever touched before. Anybody can touch my body, and kiss my lips, and pull my hair, and make me orgasm, but it takes a certain person to touch that little part of me. That small but powerful piece of what makes me who I am.

And it's always a surprise when someone does. It's always unexpected.

And this is what you do to me.

You touch this part of who I am, and for me, that's better than all the pleasures of the world or my body.