I miss the feeling of being touched.
The feeling of his fingers running softly across my thighs, his hands gripping between
my fingers, his breath when he hugs on me tight. I miss the feeling of his
presence almost immediately after he left, but I kept reminding myself that
this is not a heartbeat.
I miss his voice. Speaking dirty to
me, telling me I was beautiful as he run his fingers all over me. I miss the
way he demands for my presence, to video call me and tell me about the little insignificant
things about your life. I miss him. I never thought I would feel this again. I
miss the entirety of his being. His presence. His body. Him.
I knew you were a disaster. But I
am a raging storm myself that I can’t calm down. I have thunders and
rainfall in my heart that I can’t handle. I have lightning bolts and sandstorms
in my chest that make it so hard for me to get my way out. He doesn’t calm my
storm, but I find peace in his disaster. I used to think that no one in
this world will be there to face my fiascos with me, but I find someone who
were much more of a mess than I am.
And I guess this is why I miss him
because he finds way into my soul, mind, body and spirit not to heal from the
battles thrown our way, but to be a mess together.