Fiction for Happiness.

Haven’t written anything good because I can’t write when things are good.

But here’s what I remember about goodness.
I didn’t care what everyone said. I wanted to explore and read their body languages through my mind, experienced eyes.

I wanted you to touch me because I wanted to feel your fingers on my skin; moving from my hair to my eyebrows. You were uncertain now, but I knew you would not stop. But you stopped, and I searched your eyes for signs. You looked straight back, and then asked if you should touch me. I looked straight back, and mentioned that you were trembling.

Of course you were. I hoped you heard me trembling too, when I asked, “Please..?”.

I imagined in my mind that you wanted to trace the outline of my body, that you will be gentle about it as much as you wanted to hold me by my throat, then scavenge through me like the remains of a deer. I hoped you saw me as a deer; doe-eyed and lost in a vision of us. I heard the thunder trembling too, and I knew that the skies shook for us.

You kissed my eyes, and continued to line the topography of my skin against yours. “This is where your nose ends,” you said. “And here, this right now.”

I didn’t know what it meant, but it registered the moment you melted your lips into mine. You muttered, “I’ve wanted to kiss you.” A silence followed and I think I would have said something back, if not because I couldn’t. I’ve been waiting for someone to kiss me the way you did.

We said nothing, and you stopped once more.

“I am going to love you.”

I think I teared a little. I would have thanked you, but I didn’t.

Because I know the visible scars on my arms, my body would change your mind. So I said,

“Don’t be too happy. We will change our minds tomorrow, silly.”

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