November 7 2018

Holding Hands

The first time I saw you, your handsomeness that showed through with your purity which had the hidden empathy desiring to escape, your heart yearning to give all to me.

The first time you spoke to me, that kind-heartedness in your voice, your silent words spoke through the beauty of your eyes that saw into the depths of my soul.

The first time we held hands, warmth of your hand that seemed to travel from your gentle touch, inward toward my heart bringing love to my every organ.

The first kiss we shared which came after you held me tightly. We were inexperienced. Our silent lips spoke of acknowledgement and approval. With the smoothness of your lips against the deadness of my face, I could feel your increased heart rate in agreement with mine.

I still remember the feelings now after so many years later. Our closeness that we have always maintained, the care for one another that has never weakened, the dreams that have never come to realization and those cards which have never been dealt in our support.

Today in my every dream, when I walk alone, in my heart in silence and in every conversation, and in all those songs we have shared talks about the lingering barrenness inside my soul. I still remember the feeling and all I can do is wish for the return of those same feelings, the return of those long silent walks that would be nothing more than getting back to loving each other.

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Novemberschild © 2018 | All rights reserved

Posted November 7, 2018 by Novemberschild in category "Musings & Thoughts

About the Author

I write a lot, which keeps me off the streets and out of trouble. There is always something to write about, always a new story to craft. Not writing, for me, is like trying to hold back a sneeze. Learning to write was the most powerful influence in my life. I can still remember the awe I felt when I realized I could put real words onto paper and tell out a story. From that first ‘a-ha’ moment I knew I wanted to write.

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