Tuesday Tales and a Fussy Body

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.

A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. This week we share the prompt "fussy".  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds.  This will be an excerpt from my brand new yet-to-be-named WIP.

Enjoy!~

Behind closed eyes, my mind sees as clearly in the dark as when wrapped in the rays of a sunny day, and everything is in fast forward- these clips keep sliding through so fast I can’t grab onto any single one to keep it stationary. Just like I can’t grab onto you to keep you from moving on, away from me, away from us, away from everything I know as love, as comfort, as home.

Of course I can’t sleep, my fussy mind prohibits the respite my body desperately needs.  

Could you sleep if you knew you wouldn’t hold those hands again so tightly, gripping fingers sliding into each other like a perfect puzzle. Squeezing tighter every so often, to make sure it’s real. That you’re really there, pressed against me, the ragged breathing of slipping into sleep whispering against my ear, letting me know you aren’t feeling the same desperation as I.

I wouldn’t want you to feel this way. I wouldn’t wish this aching on anyone, especially someone I loved.

I remain awake, memorizing each movement against me, so when I’m alone in my bed, I will recall the electricity of your skin against mine. You don’t even realize what I’m doing, embracing this last night together to remember it for the rest of my life.

To remember it for the rest of my life.

Will I compare every other lover to you? God, I hope not. I can’t feel this way for the rest of my days, it’s invisible torture, chipping away at any flickers of joy in the slow rolling hours of the day.

You shift, sliding your other hand closer up my tummy, resting on my breast, the way you always did, cupping so gently within your tender grasp. I assume you’re sleeping, otherwise, I don’t believe you’d knowingly do that. Not tonight anyway, the last night we spend together. I welcome your closeness, and your touch, giving me further reminders implanted within every nerve in my tense body. I try to relax, but, it’s so hard when you’re this close, yet light years away from the way I feel. I used to melt into your embrace, protecting me, warming my back, your leg sometimes wrapping over mine. I felt protected, loved, safe, and claimed.

Fully aware of your midsection almost fused with mine, we cup in closer, connecting our loins. Your desire behind the heat of my femininity thrusts my mind into a state of fiery recollections. I can’t imagine not connecting with you, making love with you, tasting your skin while our hands slide, finding our passions.

You must be sleeping, you wouldn’t do this intentionally, when awake and functioning with restructured emotions that don’t include loving me. Well, not loving me the way a promised one would. We can be friends is more like a slap in the face than a commitment to casually check in, inquiring about our separate lives, smiling at anything and everything that doesn’t include us every day. It’s worth mourning, or it wouldn’t have been true.

In the wee hours of the still darkened morning, I fall asleep against the wishes of my depths to stay awake savoring this time. The physical drag of my sadness exhausted my brain, collapsing me into a short lived nap, before I awaken again.

This time alone, clutching a pillow, not your body. An unacceptable substitute, but the only alternative I have.

You’re really gone. I’m empty, and the nothingness is sadder than anything I’ve ever known.