Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt is
It’s only now, at this moment of exquisite numbness that I realise how my senses have been heightened throughout our affair.
The shivers of expectation as I wait for that first touch, the moment when she runs a finger along my forearm. It brings back those early weeks, a life held in limbo filling in every second to bursting; Then there is the recurrent metallic stickiness of the taste of blood in my mouth, each time she slaps me, every hurt extended by words devoid of care, full of bile.
After there is the clawing stench of his sweat, clinging to her defiant skin, never yielding to that miasma of truth that drifts in her wake and seeps into my soul.
And finally it is the words, the ones I’ve spoken to myself in my lonely optimism, but on her lips are like shrapnel to my hopes.
I listen to the pitter-patter of the rain on the still waters as she slips below the surface with a gurgle and a gulp. One by one my senses shut down until finally even my conscious self is no more. She is gone and so am I.