Melany Fellington is a young girl who lives in poverty in a changed world. She doesn't have what others have the room to have, but family made what she has more than enough. During substandard times of oppression, a fatal interference threatens her...
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(Friday, October 5th) (3:26 a.m.)
The mild chilly night breeze seeped through the bottom of the only closed window in the room, curtains with vibrant designs of race cars were pulled in gentle ripples with the very breeze of temperatures that kept a little boy with a head full of dark brown curls cuddled up against my side, under bed covers with identical race car designs to stay in the warmth that the breeze wanted to take away, the cold of the breeze a densely unyielding force that warm bedding proved the cold's unyielding property to be untrue, making the cold yield from making a young boy shiver in his slumber.
Somehow, the bed covers that were wrapped around the both of us that had one purpose of keeping me warm, couldn't keep me warm and when an embrace from who I loved wasn't and isn't felt where I want it, I also somehow knew why I felt cold, why my body felt so misplaced without her warm embrace.
The senses on my skin aches for and misses the gentle fulfillment of her touch, the increasingly warm feel of her touch on my bare skin as her touch was never cold whenever she held me or in the ways that she never got to intimately touch my body in the ways that I only wanted her to, her so incredibly tactile and kind touch that my skin unconsciously craves the feel of it when she was always holding me when I was within her proximity, and the embodied goosebumps that always rose on my skin whenever she's close to me, the same excitement taking over my body when my reaction to her touch never changed.
She always took advantage of the time that I was with her, holding me as close as she could. She always touched me and when the slightest bit of space was in between us she always brought me even closer, and if it was impossible to bring me closer she would prove to the elements of physics that makeup how objects and people that there is only possibilities when it came to us, that physics could never keep us apart, bringing my body so close to her own that we practically became one. She always wanted me near and close to her and she alwaystouched me physically because she was so tactile. She loved cuddling so much. She loved holding me in her arms and I loved being held and now my body's senses and skin craves for her tactile touch when she is not around to hold me, to touch me, to kiss me, to be with me.
I want to be held in aching ways that I've never felt before and my heart breaks because I only want her to hold me, and these yearnings that I feel makes it so difficult to not feel lost when her fingers, her hands would play her beautiful tune on my heart strings, always pulling strings, but never stringing me along, never leading me on, always taking me on the journey of love, our love, our journey that was limited without the both of us knowing, our journey that was abruptly cut short, leaving only me standing on our pathways. Whenever she touchedme, she would strum her song that made me forever memorize her sound, the feel of her gentle song among my skin.
