Love, it is...
Have I told you about the day you touched me? Maybe not. It rained a day before in Jaipur. Weather was still humid, my feeling needed a touch of gentle breeze and then, you came. You sat next to me, you looked a million bucks and I was plain. I am sure you didn't even notice my hands sweating in apprehension. By accident, you touched me. It rocked my world, it was surreal, so magical that each of my body parts was celebrating that moment. You said sorry. I wondered, for what? It was as close as anyone can get to consummate by a touch. You narrated a story after that. I am sorry, I didn't listen. I was wishing you could touch me one more time, not by accident, though. You could hold me between your arms, slide your body close to mine and kiss me passionately. I was watching your fingers, wishing I could slip into them or hold them between mine. You asked why I was quiet? I smiled. You can never understand the hurricane I was holding inside of me. If I let that burst away that day, you would have understood passion. If... I think now.
I saw that picture you posted on Facebook yesterday, one in which you had your arm around your wife. I thought, does she feel the way I felt ten years ago? I bet, not. Only longing can bring this much intensity, this much passion. I was a bit jealous, I imagined standing next to you and your arm over my shoulder. You can never imagine what all followed next. Daydreaming, I know. But I 'liked' that picture, not that the picture was good, but I know how your touch feels. Just so you know, 'Like' was for that touch you gave me 10 years ago. Touch - that etched in my memory and never faded away. Touch - the only thing I have from you, besides a never ending desire to be in your arms.
Sometimes I think, is this lust? No, it can't be lust. Of all the things I imagine doing with you, I always end up spending my days with you, listening to the many things you share about your work on Facebook. I am always in your arms, never on your bed. See, there is a difference. It is love for sure. Sadly, I never had the courage to share my feelings with you. I wish you could get hold of my diary someday and read all that I write here, like it happens in movies. In case that happens, let me tell you, I have never been touched that way again.
*Image - Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire