Spilled ink at 12am

the wave that hits

The wave of realization

Some people like the touch of a warm hand for it comforts them in a way a jacket can not.

But always loved the touch of a cold hand for I had warm hands and the cold touch was something I could not achieve on my own.

You had cold hands and I suppose I miss the shock you're hands gave me when our fingertips would accidentally meet. But even though you had a cold touch you were anything but cold. You held warmth in your smile, your laugh.

Then we were separated and it felt as if a swarm of waves had crashed upon the seas. And in an instant, you were gone.