Sitting in a chair, going through my own reminiscences, found her image. If she was still alive, she might have written:
I tried to hide my desires for him behind my fears and concerns, until today. Today we made love again. It was not like the first time. The intensity, the flesh, the passion, the sweat, were all the same. The pleasure of his kiss, the warmth of his hands, the incredible feeling when he first went inside, the sensation of looseness that followed, were also the same. But today we had more time to know each other, to savour each other, to discover each other.The night didn't start well. A senseless discussion about a senseless matter. I argued with him, and repeatedly made clear that I didn't want his countless kisses, his close attention and his soft touches. I lied. I was confused. My heart, still divided between past and future, held the infamous bridge that caught me. I was a prisoner of my own sentiments, aspirations and desires.I finally succumbed to his charm. It was something in his eyes that I could not elucidate, but which still made me ebrious.The bridge still existed. But a dash of courage and a sac of desire made me cross it. And once again I gave myself to him; every inch of my body belonged to him; every portion of me was touched by him; sometimes by his strong hands, other times by his tongue that covered my body; still in other occasions the rest of his body rubbed over me as if cleaning myself from previous encounters, as if in preparation for a divine ritual.My soul had displaced off my body, in a state of mercurial ecstasy. Sometime later, I returned, and could only notice the wet body of my warrior laying over mine, still breathing vividly in my ears.
But I must confess, she never died. And she has never lived, only in my sweetest dreams.
