He was besides me. I could say that by his hands. He had warm big hands and they would encapsulate my hand when he held mine. I was timid compared to him. He towered over me. I could tell that because when he hugged me, I could hear his heartbeat loud and clear. His heartbeat soothed me and he loved hugging me, so we would spend hours hugging each other and lying on the bed and talking about various topics. He often would compliment how my true beauty is in my heart unlike others who would spend hours before a mirror to hide their imperfections. Roses, jasmine, lilies, our house was always full of them! Every room had a different aroma, for me to differentiate. Seldom did his joyful nature fade, filling our entire time together with smile pasted on our faces.
Everything was perfect but it was dark. It was always dark, no matter what time it was. I had to touch to see. I had to listen for the direction. But the way he kissed, tenderly, assured me that it did not matter. It did not matter that I would never see him or his smile or be able to compliment him on his looks. All that mattered was how we felt together, how his laughter would make me feel alive, how his touch would make me complete. Even though everything was not perfect, we loved the concept of being each other’s last piece of puzzle.