You almost wish that the beginning, beautified by the brilliance produced from bliss, was jarred—or maybe it was, and that’s why it decomposed and shriveled up into itself.  That’s what happens to the virginal, no?

… And then I realize that, maybe I don’t miss him as much as I think I do.  I know that amongst the pleasant memories I have of him, that I miss the secure warmth of a body contouring mine.

I miss being completely engrossed in kisses from insatiable plush lips that rob your consciousness of the concept of time.

I miss the unquantifiable amounts of sex where eyes lock, bodies synchronize, and fireworks explode at the end, white explosions of light ricocheting behind closed eyes.

The reality is that I realized that, I’d been missing all of these things, these products of love, longer than I’ve missed him.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAwGWptsOls

Radiohead: Morning Bell