“I met you in Spring. In the rainbow earth of blossoming flowers. I met you when the rooftop tiles baked in sunlight. And lime-green trees illuminated the sidewalk. I met you when the days got longer and noise of nature got louder. I had seen your smile before. Like a candle in the darkness of winter.
The sun hung heavy in the sky as if it could not bear to move another inch. I felt its presence become obvious in my mood and lust for you. As my body melted like an ice-cream into yours. Our minds as still and as vacant as the summer sky. I could feel your eyes on my body. Your soft touch caressed as much skin as your fingertips could reach. Sending me to sleep. You spoke slowly. Asking me about love languages. My silence and newly opened eyelids, signalled my curiosity. You continued. “love languages are ways in which people express themselves. Your love language is touch. People possess many different love languages but yours is touch, absolutely”. You said self-assured. I smiled in agreement. I closed my eyes again. Pressing my face into your chest. I could feel your smile and steady stare and then your lips against my forehead, kissing my mind. You slid a strand of hair behind my ear, admiring my beauty and brains. While I was quietly falling in love with you.
You challenged my love language every night by moving to the opposite end of the bed. As my breathing deepened. Hoping I was dreaming sweetly and not missing your body against mine. But I forgave you every dawn. As you pushed your erect penis into my wanting vagina. Breaking my slumber. Dissipating my loneliness with every passionate thrust. You made love to me as if the world was ending. Which it was. Quite literally.”