You used to move me like the wind when it meets the grass. Like a flower feeding off of the sun’s energy.
You used to move me like an iceberg melting into the ocean. Or a bee to pollen.
You used to move me like a paintbrush across a canvas.
You painted my soul with all your colors and left your fingerprints all over my body. Your fingers were the gentle strokes that always put me at ease and the way you knew your way along my curves was enough to make me feel alive.
That was before. And when I saw you again I couldn’t move. Not because I missed you. But because I didn’t.
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