The feeling of someone else’s beating breathing living body against mine, it heals me. It is the medicine I need but I am yet to be prescribed.
It’s like a crisp first breath of fresh air filling your lungs as if you’ve not had an intake of oxygen for years.
Except it’s warm.
Warm like the sun glazing upon the hairs of your cheeks as you close your eyes. That’s what makes you soft.
Your skin is soft against mine.
It soothes me, and your touch too It’s like you you knew.
You knew how to calm me and make me feel alive at the same time. You were the medicine that stunted the crippling pain.
But they’ve stopped my prescription.