I started this flash fiction as a poem to see if I could turn it into something with a bit more substance.
Can anything ache more than longing? I had experienced heart break, loss of a loved one
but longing had a sweet ache to it not the ache of dissolution. Still her imprint on the pillow
beside was ever present, fragranced by her scent. It filled the bed and made me long for
her just as the mental collage of last night replayed in my mind. Entwined together in
passionate solemnity whispering edicts of love. A warm glow settled as if the ghost of her
presence had enchanted the room and that made me smile more.
She may have left for work early and I was still trying to wake properly, drunk on sensation
and fluttering emotion. Eyes barely open but the visions of her were enough. My heart
ached more, it was something strange and unearthly this feeling. It wasn’t lust though lust
may have be involved as part of it, an amalgamation perhaps. All far too confusing to be
thoroughly investigate.
But I lay next to her pillow and wished she was still there. Tasting her kisses, breathing her
in, listening to her words. Digesting them, chatting in a post coital haze, arms around each
other laughing in happy honesty.
Getting ready was harsh as still longing had me in its grips. Majestically the film reel of last
night was in soft focus. The restaurant, the coming home, the love making, the cuddling,
all were rosy tinged and laced with happiness. Nothing would ruin this day and coming
home to her tonight would be worth the sensation of longing, a sweet torture.