in Poetic Prose

A Tenderness Recalled

It’s funny the things that I end up missing the most.
It’s funny how there’s really no way to describe those memories.
A scent, a movement, a look in her eyes. That feeling of unveiled joy, of intimacy, of knowing and being known.
A gentle caress, a luxurious resting, an embrace shared in the first waking moments when the sheets are warm and the air is cool. Half awake but mostly sleeping, a subtle shift of her shoulders and hips bringing me closer to her.
There are no words for such moments. There was a childlikeness, an innocence, an uninhibited playfulness at those times. A complete loss of self-consciousness, only the awareness of loving and being loved.
The moments of tenderness are the moments I have come to treasure more than the moments of passion.

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