The calm, quiet ache

I miss you today. It’s not that I don’t miss you everyday, but right now, this minute it’s worse than usual. It’s a longing from the depth of my soul today. You’re so far away and I won’t see you any time soon. I know this. Activity surrounds me. Things to do. Deadlines to meet. But inside it’s a calm, quiet ache. Like after a bleak mid-winter snow, there’s no hope of spring in the near future. No blooming flowers, no fragrant walks among the cherry blossoms, no tender embraces in the moonlight. I miss the deep timbre of your voice, the words you spoke to me. I miss your hands, your fingers. I miss the way they traced the lines of my face, then my body. You caressed every inch of me. I lay open and completely exposed and watched your eyes take me in from tousled hair to pedicured toes and had never before felt so comfortable with my body or so beautiful. I miss the weight of you on top of me. There is so much of you, muscle, flesh, bone and man. I adore your massiveness. Making love to you was like coupling with a Greek sculpture. I miss walking hand in hand with you while we talk of everything and nothing. Those glances in each other’s eyes, both of us marveling that the other is real. We wait for the awkward moments to come. They don’t. How can two people who just met have a history together? It shouldn’t be possible. What we have shouldn’t exist. But it does. And I ache for you.

4 thoughts on “The calm, quiet ache

  1. Aghhrrr! How can such an expressive description of a new-yet-old relationship have no comments? Have your readers no soul? Have they never fallen in love?

Talk to me. Please.

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