She rose from ashes and succumbed to it. She had heard of his magic and wanted to touch. She feared she’d burn herself again, her heart would not let go. She wanted to see him, feel him, and touch him. She felt anew.
The time had come, she went to receive him. He was lost in a crowd of millions. She wanted to see him first. Her heart leapt. The butterflies ate her insides. She searched for him. He for her. And then she saw him, it was new.
They embraced, their hearts entwined. It seemed like forever. She was new. He let go, looked into her eyes. She moved forward, kissed him. The world stopped. She was new. She is new.
He could not understand it. She was in awe. He was beautiful. She wanted him. He, her. The clasped hands and walked in silence, allowing their emotions to die down. They wouldn’t. This was the first time they met. This was new.
They drove home. Her home. To be his. They hugged when inside. It was magical. She was a virgin, she was glad she waited. He lay her down, brushed her hair away… caressed her body. She arched her body to touch his… feeling his touch. They made love. She was new.
She took him out that morning, to explore. She wanted to explore him. She was in love. He held her ever so carefully, like glass. She yearned for him. Their bodies for each other. They watched movies, lying in each others arms. They walked along the rocks, through the bustling city, through snide remarks and comments. They heard nothing. She was new. This was new.
He left the next morning, he wanted her. She wanted him. She never felt this way about anyone. This was her forever. Her heart wandered. It followed his.
She remembered. She is new.