frost over

I don't remember what a true embrace feels like. Not the side hug or the mere acquaintance pat. The two-person contact with tiny tactile sensations never experienced by either party that simultaneously trigger both the overwhelming feeling of security and the undeniable feeling of pleasure. It is flexion of neck, shoulders, and arms in a comfortable dance and release of breath that blankets the crumpled sheets of secret fears. All that is needed is five seconds of this, and one is reminded of the temporal yet burdensome nature of loneliness. The very thought of contact is enough to distract, and the constructed memory of such is an escape to another reality.