March Cetro. Lemons and Tits (№ 227430)

Only you had it: there was skin under his fingers, the taste of someone else's sweat on the tongue, the hair, which can confuse the fingers, smell, weight. The other person is amazing, if you once let him close, he is tangible, he's breathing, he fills two-thirds of you even when still asleep in the next room. And your hands are busy with my life too, for love is not about feelings, it's about the physical presence of bodies, pulsating hearts, cool lips.
And after all that there comes a time when you need to give up, to be sure to take them out for a spin and break up, to disperse. And then the most striking is the emptiness - you suddenly have nothing in his hands. All that is here was taken, was weighted, filled, - this is no trace. The signals that had just scored all the senses, disappeared from the airwaves. At first it seems that you're blind, deaf and turned to stone at all, as gardening fool. But no, heart, eyes and tongue, nose sniffing, ears flutter in the wind, boots rubbed the heel, the head hurts. Just where have you been man, he was gone, and everything is fine. And you leave thinking different thoughts - as I am now without it like the day after tomorrow to believe that he is, and where's my everything?!