Longing

She watched him from across the room as though he was her savior. She longed for his touch. Her skin prickled with phantom touches of a man long gone. The woman across from him reaching out, her hand brushing his. They were lovers entangled in a web of lies. Hours before, he painted his desires on the body of another, leaving promises of his return. As she sat in the café, she cried for the dream she enclosed inside of her heart, the one where she would no longer watch him from across the room and internally beg for a moment in his world.

A.J. Luna

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