I’m still slightly shaken. I can feel it in my joints; my elbows and knees. It’s as if they aren’t quite connected. It’s as if they’re floating with an electrical current keeping them together by some sort of magnetism or science-y phenomenon that is well beyond me to describe. I’m still recovering from being against you and it’s scary and exhilarating at the same time.
I can walk normal and lift things I’ve always lifted. I can type and squeeze and pull just as I always have, but when I sit and rest for a moment my knees start to tell me something is off. My elbows feel as if they’re vibrating at a low frequency. I can’t tell if its because you’re not here anymore or if it’s because when you were you weakened me. Either way I can still feel what it did to me.
I’m recovering though. The feeling in my stomach has subsided. My face is no longer flushed and my body is no longer tingling. I know you’re not here and not close. Your touch isn’t a reach away and your breath can’t run down my neck and cause me to shiver. But I can still feel you and that feeling strikes my brain like a bolt of lightening bringing back the flash of us together. My knees are still weak and my arms are like jelly. Being next to you shook every bone in my body and I’m weaker now.