April 17 2025

Zarah Hashim
Oct 6
3 min read

Two people reaching for each other over a black background. — *Photo courtesy of* *Rosin Rusanovschi* *via the* *Unsplash* *license*

It starts with an awkward, “Hello.”

We ride the lift to the third floor. He trails behind me as I walk him to the door.

The lights at full brightness, the curtain closed. I sit down, He does not.

The memory blurs as I try to recall our first conversation. Yet, what I know, what my body knows, is the way his lips felt on mine, so wet and eager and hungry to taste.

Soon, we fall into a rhythm. A hand on my neck whilst mine are in his hair, yearning with every push and pull, ebb and flow.

Lust is a powerful force. One feels out of control in a way which becomes intoxicating: the scars on your skin as the burning blood courses through your veins.

The aggression with which this desire pounds within us led to being unclothed and yearning for more. The heat of his skin against mine soothes the dull cold of the autumn air.

Cooling from our lust, we embrace – his arms around my back, tracing my bare skin with his fingertips. I ask him, “Are you like this with everyone?” He chuckles and simply replies “Yes.” Soon, I’ll forget this and coddle myself into believing I am special.

We talk and begin to get to know each other after our bodies have already met. The opposite to most relationships, however, what we had was not like most: it was not normal, or ideal, or anything. It sat uncomfortably in an undefined limbo, between everything and absolutely nothing.

And so began the next seven months of our lives. Twice a week we’d fulfill our carnal desires, embrace after dark and talk. With every visit, my heart began to defrost.

I began to fall in love.

What a young, naive fledgling I was, so malleable and receptive to the feeling of desire and the attention he awarded me with. I began to crave it. I began to crave him.

Soon all I wanted was him, just him. The sexual incentive was there but my real desire lied with him: the person, not the body. Hours we’d spend talking, making my love grow and the ache worse.

I was aware of my incoming downfall, my doom, my judgment day. When the moment arrived and he decided to play God, I was taken aback. I was bewildered by his cruelty.

But I accepted my fate. I accepted that the months we’d spent carving our names into each other's skin was to be gone so simply, so plainly, so finally.

The same naive fledgling who was blinded by love, was on that day now infected with a broken heart. The most incurable sickness of all.

Bodies

Standing, close

touching, each other

whispering, together

Bodies, entwined

people, two

kisses, a thousand

Lust

yearning

desire

love.