Writing and Intimacy

I don’t know why I picked up that magazine, or why I had the time but as I sat there, I was entranced by the photographs that the magazine. I flipped slowly and carefully through each one of the pages, never looking at any page too deeply.  My fingers flipped through the pages as I double took on some of the more enticing ads and articles that they had, but one, in particular, caught my eye.  I was surprised to see it, there laid out before me, I stopped leafing through that book and took it in. What it was for escapes me but there before I was a woman, loosely clad, faced partially obscured by the limitations of the frame, leaning in and grabbing her chest.
The pores of her smooth skin were apparent as the camera’s clarity brought about every detail. Small folds of her breast shown through minute shadows radiating away from the hand that was holding firm.  There was a coy smile that painted itself on her face as it knew something much more than me. She seemed to have all the control and grace, as her hair was pushed off the way as not to obfuscate her body.
The image felt larger than the page and emanated a sense of both lust, and intimacy. A playfulness that jumped out reminded me of time long past and impressed the feeling of a sense of love and closeness.  It might seem strange, this photo might give all those things but its the expression through the body that say there was no worry, no fear, just a bit of fun because I trust you.  There were dark shades of color, as the backdrop of the bedroom came into view.  It makes you wonder what she was thinking about when that picture was taken, or if she was thinking at all.
The illusion of closeness and affection cast its spell on me, throwing back into my mind as I searched through buried memories of times when this feeling was more apparent. First came a sweet remembrance of love and touch but soon turned sour as my heart came to realize its absence. I began to miss intimacy, the bond of confidence and simple singular purpose that combines and intertwines the sense of body and spirit.  Being on that same stage with another human being, feeling the world vanishing as two beings remove themselves from the fold to enter a universe all their own.  I began to miss that feeling of no really caring about what about what was on the other side of that door because whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore. I began to miss the quiet moments where hearts would if only for a moment connect.
Taken on a trip, my skin felt like it wanted to cry out for touch, to cross that physical barrier of the page to reclaim this lost feeling in a remiss heart. I was filled, just as blood coursed through my veins, with a desire in each of my limbs to reach out and grab whatever I could to bring me some sense of relief.  My heart called out “Come closer and listen to me, you have neglected me for too long and I want this”.  My eyes scanned the page to find some sense of truth that seemed to be lost to them and my brain remained silent, instructing my hands to turn the page and forget all of which I saw.

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