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The Touch

My hands are rough and calloused not soft, the same as my language. It is not given to me to speak soft words, which while sweet, are soon forgotten. Besides, “I love you” and “You’re beautiful” I should soon be lost and adrift in my sea of ignorance of pretty words.

So what has brought us to this?

Was it that moment you caught me looking too long before speaking or that almost imperceptible measuring look that found something more than just good and decent…leading to a different smile than I’d seen before as you gazed steadily into my eyes?

Why do we try to speak so much to fill in the gaps? It’s these fractions of moments when words are out of place that alter the course of our lives.

I remember all of the insanity I put myself through just to be where you are so I might see you – and how long did it take for you to notice me…but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.

And when I finally got the chance to speak and say a word to you, I went home and kicked myself for being the village idiot. I was hopeless, and yet, you were my hope. Just tongue tied, work clothes and calloused hands, trying to get you to look past that and just see me.

This quiet moment that I should dare so, what has brought us here: The tilt of your head, a soft smile, a certain look? It’s as if you know what I would say and what you would say I know – we know more in silent understanding than in a thousand words that get thrown past us every day.

What moment is this where is found a prelude to a kiss and the threshold to passion? That all I could hope for might be found in a soft caress. ..

…to hold the softness of your skin in these calloused hands and breathe in the scent of your hair…

That I would dare and you should yield, eyes half closed drawing me in –

That intake of breath when we first touch…In public or private, so innocent a gesture for a feeling that runs so deep that any who might see would knowingly smile.

And yet, it’s your smile has captured me, for you are in this moment my hope born of desire come to life.

You yield to my touch even as I yield to your call in the silence, your face turning ever so slightly and nuzzling my hand. We speak the language of silence, of touch, of emotion all coming together in this moment which promises more. Those eyes half closed, the electric – you, that I should have dared.

This moment is the promise of forever.

You’re beautiful.

And I love you.
Written by AverageJoe (Average Joe. AJ. Joe)
Published
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