Blind

I reach out and pause, my fingers hovering tentatively from what I assume is just centimeters above her face.

I reach up and gingerly wrapped my hands around his extended wrist, pulling his arm until his fingers lightly graze my check.

My nerves jumped in surprise, the warmth from her skin was intoxicating. I flatten my fingers out. My pinky comes to rest on the edge of her lip, my thumb curled slightly under her jaw. I slowly move my hand to rest next to her ear, and on the edge of her hairline. I start to circle my fingers over her cheek. There is a slight concave in her cheek, like an arrow pointing down to her mouth. Her skin was so smooth and I imagine that rosy red looks like her cheek feels.

His hand is cupped ever so gingerly over my cheek, his fingers tracing patterns over my skin. They danced from place to place, like ballerinas doing a perfectly choreographed dance.

I slowly moved my hand up her face. I stopped as her eyelashes brushed over the tips of fingers. People say it is like a butterfly kiss, but it is so much better, so much lovelier.

His hand has formed under my eyebrow, beside my nose, and over my eye. I had closed my eyes savoring the moment, but I open them again. I can see his face through the space in his fingers; his eyes are closed. He doesn’t like the stares his foggy eyes get him.

I bring my other hand up to the opposite side of her face, fumbling until I find her eyebrow. Her eyebrows outlined the arch of the bone over her eye perfectly. My fingers traveled up her forehead, it was mildly curved and a little large but it fit her well. I moved my hands down over her ears, and to the jaw.

His hands were covering my cheeks, his thumbs folded over the corner of my jaw. They felt so safe and warm, so loving. He was tracing his fingers over my jaw, memorizing my face. Then he finally came to rest on the raised skin just below my lip. I realized I had closed my eyes, and slowly opened them. I reached down I grasped his hand and brought it up to my lips.

Her warm breath pooled over my fingers. I traced her lips, exploring every arch, and curve. They were pointed at the top, before lunging down, like a low backed dress. Then slanted down and out to the corners of her mouth. The corners of her lips pulled at a smile and I leaned in to kiss her.

His hands were still cupping my face, but they didn’t matter as much anymore. All that mattered was his lips, and the way they were pressed against mine. He pulled away, still resting his hands on my face. Until I couldn’t help it any more, I let a laugh of joy escape through my lips.

“I can feel your dimples,” he smiled and leaned in closer to give her another kiss.