Your Touch

Soft gentle strokes
set my body aflame.

Feather-light caresses
ignite my heart.

Sweet soft kisses
burns in my depth.

Capturing gaze
erupts my core.

Your touch
light, soft, sweet,
leaves deep impressions
on my body, mind, and soul.

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Hindsight is 20/20

I threw the term “best friend” a lot as a child, even when I didn’t truly believe the person who held the title deserved it. As I grew older, I still used the term loosely, calling whoever was close to me, my best friend. During my junior high school years, I entered the angsty teenager phase, and became disillusioned by the term. So in place of “best friend”, I would refer to my closer friends as close friends… in essence, demoting them. I tried extremely hard to keep calling close friends as such, but I ended up finding a best friend.

A best friend is someone who’s got your back no matter what, someone you can trust and depend on, someone who knows you as well as you know them… someone who will be there for you when things start to collapse around you. They’re also the ones who are there to share exciting news and celebrate with you.

In eighth grade, I found my first real best friend. He was different from all the other friends I’ve had, he was genuine and honest… and trustworthy. I felt more comfortable with him, talking to him than I had anyone else I’d met. So, I began coining him as my best friend… because he was everything I listed above and more. He was my rock, and I wanted to be his.

I was so blinded by my idea of reciprocity that I couldn’t accept I was important to him because of how little he shared. He wasn’t the sharing type, but I couldn’t let it go… I didn’t feel like we were putting an equal amount of effort into our friendship. So, I pushed and pushed… I tried so hard to make our friendship something it wasn’t: I tried to mold it to fit my fantasy. And surely, that is where I went wrong. I realize that now…

Hindsight is 20/20, but I wish that foresight were just as clear…