The Last Time She Touched Me

She came back.

I had given up hope that she ever would. I was told she would, but days passed and nights fell, and she had not returned. The mornings were bad and the nights worse, and I had naught but the memories of how she made me feel. But even those memories were fading. Fading and being replaced with new memories of her abandonment and my loneliness. Memories of the cold mistress who could never replace her and hating myself for even trying. Memories of nights when I passed out in my own filth after intoxication and narcotics abuse because I could not bear to lay awake thinking about her. And then, out of nowhere, she came back. She came back and the second we were together again, I forgot all about the past after she left, and was taken back to my past with her. Oh, how I’ve missed her.

Her warmth is infectious. She ruffles my hair and I look up at her. I smile as she can runs her fingers down the length of my face. As I stand there, I wonder whether this is too good to be real. Too real to last. I panic and shudder to think that she’s going to leave me right now, cold and alone once again. But I’m just being paranoid. She is here to stay, she is looking at me, and she is so beautiful. Her gentle caress brings joy and happiness that I had forgotten myself to be capable of.  I forget the shivers of yesterday and am filled with warm hopes for tomorrow.

I am a different man today. I do not freeze at the prospect of tomorrow. I do not wake up in the morning dreading the chilling routine of yesterday. I am a new man today.

Man, I wish we have hot water tomorrow morning too.


One thought on “The Last Time She Touched Me

  1. Pingback: The Last Time She Touched Me | Arshu's Blog

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