Robbing Love

When I think of him, I always remember his hands touching my arm, or
my cheek, or stroking the small of my back. I can still feel the soft
lingering kisses he'd plant on my neck, or how he'd softly brush his
lips on mine.
My stomach would rise up and my eyes would close, as he held me. I
remember the sweet smell of his clothes, and how when he looked at me,
he saw nothing but me. He looked at no other girls, and every time he
said, "I love you" I believed him. His eyes, which twinkled, were warm
and his smile would make me melt.
But the times I remember the most, the best, were those nights we
spent together, cuddling and kissing. We'd talk, and we'd kiss and we'd
cuddle and no one else in the world mattered.
I can still sometimes feel his hands holding me, and when I do, I wish
I had never let him go. He was and still is my true love, and its
heaven.
I cannot sit back and watch him leave; I don't want another girl's
hands touching him. I may sound controlling, but I love him. And I know
he loves me back.
He keeps the butterflies in my stomach, he makes every minute ecstasy.
My heart races and my blood pumps faster around my body. When we're
apart, I long for the day when we see each other again, and if for just
one day, I haven't set my eyes on him, I call him. Just hearing his
voice soothes and calms me.