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“What a strange thing that grief can become need in moments, in breaths, in the strength of his hands. Maybe it’s shelter. Maybe distraction. Or something else entirely. But there is old pain in me and we kiss as though we have kissed a thousand times before, as though in other lives we kissed every day, we kiss as though we have been waiting years to do so.” — Charlotte McConaghy
What a strange thing that grief can become need in moments, in breaths, in the strength of his hands. Maybe it’s shelter. Maybe distraction. Or something else entirely. But there is old pain in me and we kiss as though we have kissed a thousand times before, as though in other lives we kissed every day, we kiss as though we have been waiting years to do so.