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I remember your touch. Your hand was cool; slender fingers, delicate in my gentle grasp. I was so afraid. So afraid you would pull them away and leave me alone again and empty; hurting; half complete, but you didn’t. You smiled into my eyes and left your hand in mine. I remember your touch.
I remember your touch. The soft skin of your cheek; yielding lips against mine; a sensation so complete it needed no sight, no sound, no scent to make it any more perfect. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the gentle caress of your kiss. I remember your touch.
I remember your touch. Cold feet against my back shocking me awake. Hidden moments beneath the covers too precious, too perfect to share with anyone else. A bliss to match no other and the warmth of your body resting against mine; as near one as we two could be. I remember your touch.
I remember your touch. The restraining hand that stilled my anger, the sympathetic hand that banished my fears, the encouraging hand that showed me how much better I could be. I remember your touch.
I remember your touch. Marbled skin and just as cold; just as hard. No breath left in you, just a still form and a list of unspoken regrets. I held onto you for an age, seeking the least hint of warmth in your ice cold fingers; longing for one last embrace. I remember your touch.
I remember your touch. Dimly, through a mist, all the happiness we shared lingers in the warm recesses of my heart. Time heals all wounds they say, but none completely and I still feel the scar where you were torn from my life, the guilt that I was unable to keep you beside me, the fear that if I were to find love again I would lose it as I lost you. The memory of what we had still lingers and gives me hope that somewhere in this life there might be another, but until then I still remember your touch.
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