Still fresh in my memory.

I can't get it out of my head. His lips were so soft and open, as if our kiss was something that he had wanted for so long. It was as if we were alone on that crowded street, the soft grass tickling our feet, but the moment was so much sweeter.

It's still there, open and on the surface, like a bitten piece of fruit, soft and savory with it's flesh exposed.

That kiss was a holy moment, in its truest form. I felt every bit of God in that kiss, it was as if he had made me to feel like the bitten fruit, like the scarlet paint on the front of Hester Prynne's frock, open and exposed, vulnerable and erotic.

I was touched by sin itself, made only by God's hand.