When we kiss, it’s like a merging of two souls. In the past, I was able to tell where my body ended and where his began, as well as pull away and smile up into his beautiful hazel eyes. Now, for the first time seeing him in nine months, I dreaded pulling away from his warm soft lips and it felt as though his arms were glued around me and his hands melted into my back becoming a part of my body. Deep kisses filled with so much love and passion, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Neither of us ever had to say the three magic words “I love you” because it was so clear with every kiss, every trace and every touch. Chills traveled all over my arms from fear of ever losing this feeling. This infatuating feeling of love and companionship that came with being in his arms again and feeling his lips against mine. I made the mistake of pushing him away, and it all didn’t matter to either of us once we shared that first kiss after nine months of being apart. I held back tears when I hugged him in our little private grove in the woods near the bike trail, knowing that if he saw my tears it would ruin the perfect moment of us being together once again, which I never wanted to happen. Nothing had changed about him at all except for a slight new length and color of his hair, but none of the less he was still the kind, loving man I felt comfortable with and confided everything to. He sat on the bricks in the woods, pulled me onto his lap and cradled me like he once did many months ago, and I had never felt more lucky to be in love with him. I had never felt so much love for one person and even with the knowledge that I would rarely see him, I left that small town that day overjoyed to have been back with the person who I strongly believe I’m supposed to be with. There has to be a reason we always come back to one another, right?