Long Distance (Prompt 20)

Beneath the pink sky, shooting embers of the setting sun, under the redbud tree, blossoming with pink blooded flowers, he held me close. My head rested on his broad, hard chest. I could hear his exploding heart, beating faster than the fluttering wings of a hummingbird. My eyes were closed. I felt at peace. I was breathing normally. He wasn’t. His chest rose and fell at unusual intervals. I could feel the muscles of his body tense up. I looked up at him, into those dreamy eyes, supporting my chin on his body. Those eyes stared at me, piercing through mine and into my soul. He wasn’t smiling. His fingers traced my back gently. They caressed my skin, lovingly. I felt waves of pleasure flow through my body. His touch could do that. I had longed for him to hold me. For me to hold him. 

He cleared his throat, readying himself to speak. I moved slightly away from his body and intently gazed at him, focussing all my attention on his oncoming words.

‘Priya.’ He whispered gently. His voice awakened my sleeping desires. His voice had the magic to elevate my senses, my mind, to an unknown level. It made my desire for him reach fantastical heights.

He bent over, reaching closer to my face. His lips touched mine and it felt as if I had died. Darkness surrounded me. The touch of his lips was nothing like I had expected. They were smooth, not rough as I had thought them to be. They tasted like a sweet, juicy plum. My heart craved for it. My body was comatose. My lips responded to his with equal intensity, if not more. My feet helped me rise higher, closer to pleasures unknown. His lips and mine were locked together in the most exemplary of battles. Neither gave way. 

The sun had completely set when finally we parted. I opened my eyes to his awestruck face. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

He still held me against his body. ‘I love you.’ he said, proclaiming his love. 

I looked up at him. He still wasn’t smiling. I admired his sincerity. ‘I love you too.’ I replied, trying hard not to laugh. A smile escaped my lips though.

 The blooming redbud tree shedding some of its blushing pink flowers over us, blessing us, blessing our love. This time I reached for him and kissed him, taking his lips into mine. It was the start of a beautiful relationship.

The first few months went by in a haze. I realised what it was to be hopelessly in love. The calmness of his voice, the sensuality of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the hardness of his body, and the softness of his lips had become my favourite things in the world. I looked forward to spending my time with him. Every second of every minute that we spent together was unforgettable. We shared not only our bodies, but our minds, our thoughts, our insecurities, our dreams, our aspirations, and our very souls with each other. The idea that there is someone in this lonesome universe destined for you seemed true for a time. I had found my destiny. I had found my soulmate.

Nothing is exempt from change. This volatile journey called life, like all others, is a series of sine waves, rising and falling at intervals, turbulent like the cyclones, abrupt like whirlpools. 

My love didn’t stand a chance. We promised each other to call every day, to message every hour, to remember each other every minute, and to miss each other every second. We held each other for a long time. I lay on top of him, unwilling to let go. The thought of moving away from him brought tears. People sacrifice everything to be with their soulmates. Why couldn’t I be as strong, as determined? He told me I was independent. He said that I had to make my own path, my own reputation in this world. He said it was only a temporary bump and soon enough when he was settled and I was too, we would start a life together. A family. No one would be able to separate us then. My heart didn’t want to believe it. I lied to myself that what he said made sense. It was my life. My journey. How could I ever tell him that my journey, my destination had ended when I found him? He was all I needed from life. Even if I were to die today, I would die happily, knowing I was able to find my better half in this solitary, disjointed world.

The busyness of my new life burdened me. The new faces around me piqued my curiosity. I found new experiences that interested me. I was maturing, living my life to the fullest. We kept our promises to each other. We spoke every day and messaged each other constantly. I told him about the things I did, the skills I gained, and the people I met. Whereas I was treading on a novel, unfamiliar, unaccustomed path, my lover’s life remained unchanged. He experienced the same mundane things he did when we were together. For him, the highlight of his day was to meet me, to spend time with me. With me gone, he no longer enjoyed his life. His excitement to hear about my new life faded gradually and was replaced by envy, hate, possessiveness, and doubts. The man I had fallen in love with had changed. He had transformed into a cynical shadow that I had never seen before. We fought over calls and messages. Where once, all I wanted to do was talk to him for hours, now, I dreaded receiving even a message from him. Still, I persevered. I let the poison encompass my heart, all in hope that once we meet, all will be well. The promise of a life together, a family together lent me hope. 

Hope can move mountains. It can also crush you into a gazillion pieces. Never let your heart believe in the things you hope for in life. Those who do, are chosen to encumber the harsh realities of life and are left to convulse to death with the pain of loss, the hurt of falling victims to the falsities of hope.

The same hope that made me a believer, a zealot of true love, left me writhing on the floor. The day, we were to celebrate his proclamation of love for me, was the day he declared I did not matter to him. He said he did not love me anymore. He had moved on. He said I had changed. I was no longer the person he had loved. His promises of loving me forever and more had proven to be hollow. My soulmate, my destiny, messaged me not to disturb him. He suggested I should move on too. I smiled, red-eyed, with floods of tears flowing down my face. I remembered the day he had kissed me for the first time. I had died when his lips touched mine. I wished I had, for real. I had nothing left, except those vibrating sensations of his touch and the undying ache in my heart, knowing I might never find love again. I let myself cry, hoping again, that the escaping tears might carry his memories along.