The Touch.

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To me,  a touch had always meant everything.

The touch of our arms on our first date.

When you played one of my old time favourite songs just perfect for the cozy atmosphere. As if he knew that song was my gem.

Oh man, how much I love his man. Did I tell you I couldn’t stop staring at his eyes and lips?

I just couldn’t look into his eyes. I felt like the moment our eyes met,it would explode into bubbles, or fireworks , a galaxy or something. Please don’t ask me how they are related.

In that moment, I knew he was the one. The first day we held hands, it was more than magic. It was explosive. I could only describe it as a mesh and collision of the electric vibes felt between our palms. I wanted to tell him to never leave my hands. But hey, that would have sounded creepy. Every single touch was like an electric shock to my system. Breaking all my defences, immunity and making me numb.
Sometimes, I felt like I was vibrating and he knew I was dying inside. Just being on his arms. I could stay there forever. Our touch was all the connection we needed.

Just the touch. You could only imagine what our love making was like. We made magic.

He called. He said he wanted to meet at the pier. Dress well, he said. Uhmm, I always dressed well, I thought. Maybe he wanted to propose. But well , I dressed to kill. I literally slayed in my leather pants, a midriff mesh beaded crop top,and of course killer black spiky boots. A beige coat to top it. (Ofcourse,I had plans for tonight).  I was going to take him to heaven. One last dab of my Chanel Red lipstick and I knew I was ready to meet the love of my life. I looked like a fucking sex goodess. Not too much, but just enough. Call me Aphrodite.

As I walked to the pier, I could spot him smiling. He had that “how much I want to kiss every inch of the body” look. Oh yes, yes. That look. I walked as though I had no care in life. Ready to kiss him almost as never before. I hadn’t seen him in 3 weeks.

I could smell his cologne as I approached him. He was wearing my favourite. He is mine.

He hugged me like he was going to squeeze every liquid out of me. Then,he kissed my neck.

I felt nothing.

No fireworks, no explosions, no electricity. Not even as much as a skip of a heartbeat as it normally would be.

Nothing.

That was when I knew that he was nothing to me,not anymore. We were nothing. The touch was no longer there. The touch that made me want to see him everyday and never get tired. The touch that weakened my bones and muscles. The touch that kept me sane. The touch that said everything. That meant everything. The touch that kept us together. Nothing.

I withdrew from him.

Then I walked. I walked. I could still hear my name being called in it’s most sexualized form. That accent. Boy, was I going to miss it!

But I walked.

No touch. We were nothing.

I walked some more. And never looked back. And never came back.

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