Touch
I touch the memory of your fingers in my skin.
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I touch the memory of your fingers in my skin.
Ding, ding, ding. Three notifications, one after the other. His hand is shaking. Reads them before answering. "I cried making it." send "I can't stop thinking of you." send "I miss " He stares at the screen, unsure whether he should send it or not. “you” send
To a bird, the colour of the sky doesn’t matter. They don't stop flying. Your mood does not change how I feel for you.
I run. Down the escalator, through a platform, up another escalator. There is a train. A couple of steps. Almost. But my legs give up, my calves cramping. I stumble, next step, I fall. I feel the ground closing in. Then I wake up. I bend half. My calf is in a cramp. A sharp, flaming hot pain. I try to extend my leg, move my feet, but I can’t, something prevents me. I look down. I don't understand.…
According to Magic: The Gathering the True Love's Kiss is a forehead kiss. Good to know.
Your hand was soft, Your moustache were coarse. Your kiss was sweet, Your embrace were coerce.
via @Azzura