I almost wish I hadn’t said that. Having shrunk from the size of the house to being inside of me, yesterday the gap of Jane grew again to be just outside my body. The protection of my memory of Jane’s dead body lifted and I just crave her. Touching me now, sitting beside me. That familar entanglement of limbs. Gentle caress. Hair stroking.
Now my impulses towards flesh are all for Jane, even when it is too painful and I try to push her away. My bed no longer feels mine but ours again.
The feeling pulls at my flesh. There has been no respite. I know it will come but meanwhile it is yards.
One reply on “Come Back, My Lover”
You mentioned these feelings at lunch Dan. The way the physical is so much bound into the total ‘love’ experience makes it hard to ‘escape’ the sense of touch, the caress, the ‘familiar entaglement of limbs’. But you have it ‘in spades’ as you wrestle with the compelling and conflicting images and imprints of Jane, both alive and dead, beside you in your shared bed. Stay with the living memories as long as you can. Much love. B