Shifting sleepily towards consciousness, desperately hanging onto the heavy fog, I climb upwards towards the brightness that forces itself to be felt.
As I begin to stir, my mind becomes aware of the touch of the sheets, laying lightly on my skin.
The warmth of him radiates through the space between our bodies. No words are spoken, no signals are exchanged. With eyes clasped shut, his arms envelope me tightly.
As I start to turn, his arms release me sharply and I feel their void. They hover over my moving body, patiently waiting. I can sense their desperate desire, awaiting my quiet.
The small distance in our bodies is filled with strands of humming connections, the electricity between us moving magnetically, conveying our locations to the other pole.
Without touching, without seeing, he knows where I will move, feeling the pull of our vibrating magnetism, and he flows around me, sliding perfectly to rest, lightly enveloping my new location.
His movements around me are not confined to physical touch, but transpose to every shift of my life, purpose, and sense of self. Ever fluid, ever charged, ever connected, the fog is dispelled.
“As I start to turn, his arms release me sharply and I feel their void. They hover over my moving body, patiently waiting. I can sense their desperate desire, awaiting my quiet.”
Beautifully written. A good writer is one that can make a reader visualize and relate to the little things. That sentence brought a smile to my face. It took me back to one night that I jumped out of a nightmare fearful that being with her had been a dream. Alas!!! There she was, breathing softly right next to me. I felt her and she was real. I wanted to hold tight and never let go. I resisted sleep for fear another dream might momentarily take me away from her; a thought I couldn’t bear.
That’s why you force yourself to dream of her!
You’re a good writer too, my friend.