Sometimes I want to hug a man I don’t know anymore,
but he’s still ripe in my nostalgia.
I can almost feel his boney frame encasing my own uncomfortably.
Wood knocking –
except he was more like lumber while I was more like twigs.
Towering and looming –
felt like shelter. Felt like safety.
The closest to a brother I could ever have as a brother-less woman.
There was strength, ease, and most of all, no pressure. No innuendos. No assumptions. No judgement.
Just our branches tangling in a completely love smothered gesture.
Sometimes, I have this urge to hug him,
but I don’t know where he is anymore,
because I no longer know him.
– Rachel R. Vasquez, 5/6/2015
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
There was no thoughtful process involved here. Literally wrote this up within the last few minutes and had to get it out of me. Knew a guy in high school that was like a brother to me – not sure how we lost touch throughout the years, but I’ve come to realization recently that I really, really want to see him again. And hug him. The last pictures I have of us together, we’re hugging.
I miss that tall skinny jock. Damn it…