Sweet Sorrow

July 23, 2014 (2 years ago)
Posted in Blog: English | Categories: Non-Erotic | Tags: , ,

Sweet SorrowIt was how she perfectly fitted and collapsed into his large frame.

It was how his arms conveniently wrapped around her back.

It was how she relaxingly leaned into him in some sort of a surrender like she actually belonged there - Right there in his arms.

They both breathed in heavily. It was a sad yet tranquil moment that they both drifted into.

They stood still, embracing for a while, not even uttering a single word. They merely breathed heavily and felt the sound of their deafening hearts pound away. Their two hearts finding a way to overlap through their encasements and commune peacefully - without shame, without worry, and without care.

She closed her eyes and wished for time to stop, for the moment to not end. Oh but who are they kidding? This was not meant. Him and her? No, this was all wrong. But how can something that is wrong somehow feels so very right?

She opened her eyes and sighed deeply. This has to stop. This has to end. And that was when she worked up the courage to tell him that she had to go.

She felt him inhale deeply and oh so reluctantly began to unfold his arms and hands. As he pulled away, he stopped short to place his hands over the tops of her hips and looked into her eyes. She searched in his, and her fingers began to stroke his arms. There was vulnerability in his strength, she thought.

He asked her if she really had to go to which she wryly smiled and sweetly replied, “Yes.” He half smiled and continued to gaze at her. A nearby noise made their bodies quickly unfasten from each other’s grasp.

He stood and watched her grab her purse. She knew that they had ran out of time. They had ran out of all pretexts in where they could drag out their last goodbye.

She awkwardly stood before him and bid him farewell, but she could not and would not look at him straight. He reached out for her hand and gently squeezed it. His other hand cupped her face. “One final look,” he said. “One final touch,” he added. “Goodbye, my love.” He whispered so softly she was not even sure if the words came out of his lips.

And then he left. He walked out of the room, into the hallway, and out of her life.

And she, she wanted to weep. She wanted to break down and give it a good cry.

“Life”, she thought wistfully. “How strangely sadistic you are to have had me meet him now - to have me become mesmerized by his smile, by his charm, and by his intellect. To have fallen for him, without want or need; even prior to our meeting. How cruel it is to comprehend how these hands will always miss his, how my fingers would never trace the outlines of his face, or how I never even got the chance to tenderly peek his cheek with a not-so-innocent kiss one last time.”

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About the Author :

Joined: April 7, 2014 (2 years old)
Writings: 48

Send PM · Female · Offline

What is a Writer?

A good writer is also a good storyteller. He/she must ensnare the minds of the readers, trap them in a mind world that would make them believe what is happening is real, make them feel every stroke, feel every kiss, feel that final blow, and feel that explosion.


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