Creative Writing, Fiction, Life

Maybe She’s You

There once was a woman who was lonely. She had given up the pain which at one time promised happiness. Sometimes those scars from her past would bleed with tears. To help ease the loneliness, she would close her eyes and drift off into a world of comforting thoughts.

In the secure darkness, she painted sounds of the ocean, crashing waves, rippling water. Colors of aqua, green, blue, cloudless skies and the smell of salt filtered through her senses. The thought of sinking under water weightless, the outside sounds muffled, calming colors… With these thoughts a smile would pierce her lips. Instantly her body warmed with happy tingles that grew goose bumps on her arms.

There were also thoughts of the smell of skin, intimate thoughts of cheek to cheek, lips barely touching an ear, and drowning in the scent of a man. A foreign embrace, a kiss pulled away seeking a hunter. Come after me, the lips would call. The tracing of fingers over her body, smooth and slow… again would send frustrating tingles through her body, but the feeling alone was quite welcome. She often welcomed the thoughts of sex for not having sex made her detail all the intricacies of sex mankind never remembers in the heat and passion of it all. She felt almost blessed to be fruitless for so long, but more often, not.

There was the sound of laughter, the voice of her son, and her mother calling her name that in an instant made her feel happy. The giggle of her best friend, the gentle hug from her brother, messages and emails from her family and friends made her feel comforted. Memories of eventful mischievousness’ made her smile or laugh out loud. And secret dance offs in the privacy of her room were all too often not out of the ordinary. These things made her feel not so lonely.

The funny thing about thoughts, the woman would recall to herself, is that they are only thoughts. They come and go in an instant. The woman was right and again she would feel lonely. She thought it a cruel gift to have such a fertile imagination. She would cry and then laugh at herself in her moments of weakness. Stupidness, she gaffed and proceeded to find things to fill up her time.

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