A Self-Love Discovery
For a while, my touch wasn’t enough for myself. Conditioned to the comfort in the hands of another... Caressing my head as I fell asleep... Resting my head in your lap when I didn’t feel well... Rubbing my lower back and pelvis when the cramps were unbearable... I grew accustomed to the soothing of another’s touch, oblivious to the power of my own. “I love your touch.” How did you know the expression of affection from my fingertips before I did? The miles my fingers have traveled... Tracing the paths of your face... From your brow to your jaw, trailing down and along your collarbone... Familiarizing myself in case I lost my sight tomorrow. All the while never seeing myself. Until one night. Alone. Headed to the land our slumber transport us, I casually caressed my forearm... And, I felt it. The soothing I’ve received outside of myself since the womb. Is this what I’ve been giving all this time? The rush of warmth and comfort, I was never able to give myself. Until now.
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