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The Blog

"Distant Arms"

The Ankh

"Distant Arms" by Arnelle Williams, '17

Chiseled, crisp, clean figure hugs tightly around my lanky body. The power to give warmth in such a riveting way, that not a whisper of cold can come through, comforts me.

With one touch, the furnace comes on. First blue, orange then yellow. Immediately, I feel my goosebumps giving up and my anemia being fearful.

It is late fall and my senses can’t stand the distance. 

Your absence plays a mocking trick on my eyes, who seem to believe they can't picture the makings of  your smooth  beautiful face.

My nose who seems to believe your lovely dressing is bland on the salad of my forehead, behind my ears, and on the creases of my mouth.

My ears who seem to believe every baritone is yours, self-consciously forgetting you would never lose temper or speak vicious words to me.

My own arms who seem to believe they are crippled because your embrace is absent from them. You see when your arms flee, my
 own physic is distorted. The beauty of your arms isn't just your physical strength or your intellectual appetite, it's the resistance my body adheres to when your gone.

 I go into withdrawal because you are the addiction. No pharmaceutical drug or antibiotic  can cure this. It is your gifted arms that is my remedy, my body's keeper.

Arms that make me melt into pure, unrefined chocolate.

I swim in your pool, occasional feeling the hairs against my suit.

I hold my breath and close my eyes in your pool, only to be woken by soft kisses making sure I don't die from lack of your oxygen.

Arms that rock, we dance to our own flute, we harmonize to our own melody. Arms that guide and advance our learning of each others' souls.

Arms that have felt the tears and watched them crystallize on you. Distance have mercy on me.

I cling to my jacket and look down at my toes. Slowly lifting my head up I
 begin to smile.