Obituary to a Thought

I miss those times when you feel enough trust in someone that you completely nestle against their warm body and let go of any sense of boundaries. You feel their heart beat against your consciousness, the tempo guiding you to a place of complete protection. 

I miss when my fingers intertwine with those of another. Theirs showing strength but a sense of sensitivity to touch, tangling fingers in a loving playfulness and slight seduction. Palms blanket each other and fit the grooves like matching puzzle pieces; still nothing to be considered one of a kind when in a state of jilted-ness. Days spent longing the definite shape of desire and fit, drifting away to sleep against the leaning presence of a slumbering lover. 


This is an obituary to the thought of you being that person. 
You will never be that person.

You lied. You hurt. I suffered........... but I have also grown. 

Author's Note

* I know this may not qualify as a poem per say, but it is in this category it found solace *

Reviews

[Amazonia_08]

Amazing. I can relate entirely to this piece of literature. :) Thank-you.