My apt was above yours. When your husband would leave you’d play songs about being alone. Once we talked, you told me how broken you were. How your marriage was no longer held by love.
How the best part of your day was hearing my footsteps and somehow you felt protected and not alone.
We’d have coffee and let our souls touch in a way no other person could reach.
Our intimacy would reach levels people could only dream of.
He never touched, kissed or made love to you in a way that made you feel like a complete woman.
He never looked into your eyes just before leaning into a kiss. Held you in his arms after sex. Asked what you liked or needed during intimacy.
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