the nature of bliss

I thought it would be joy. I thought it would be light. I thought it would be like a summer day. But it wasn't.

It was aching. It was yearning, and it was melancholy. Oh, there was joy in the connection, in the awakening, in the sharing of each other, but there was more. I didn't realize that the bliss would be like that moment before we tip into orgasm, where our eyes lock with the intensity of knowing we have chosen to go over the edge together, that we've chosen to bare our souls naked to each other and there is nothing to hide, nothing to hide from.

And I sit here dazed, surprised I made it through the rest of the night. Because the tears are flowing down my cheeks, the aftermath of the bliss washing over me.

and a kernal of fear. What if he didn't feel it too? What if this is a story I'm making up?