This space belongs to me:
It has coarse hair that pricks my cheek and lips.
But it is warm even in winter.
Rough hands but soft palms.
The scent of berries with a hint of vanilla.
His arms are mine.
I hear his not so normal heart beat,
when I put my ear to his chest and it is just calm.
I’ve lost it. Help me.
I need my heartbeat.
I’m walking toward it. I’m running!