I don’t know how to describe what it’s like to kiss him. He kisses me so soft, so gentle like he wants to cherish every single second of me. He’ll pause and look right in my eyes like I’m the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He’ll wrap his arms around me and caress my cheek before tasting me again.

He’s not hungry, or starving to swallow every drop of me. He’s not rushing to see me exposed. He’s patient, like he has all the time in the world to see me unclothed. But he has seen me unclothed. He’s seen me in my raw moments, when I’m fragile and small. He’s seen my soul naked, my raw spirit exposed.

He doesn’t run in the other direction. Whispers it’s never too early to be human. He sees me as a person, not an object he can’t control himself over. He doesn’t treat me like the others before him.

He holds me like I’m someone he doesn’t want to break.

And that’s what I find is the most beautiful about him.