She closed her eyes to prevent the tears from spilling out and put her hand on his chest, feeling the steady softness of the beat beneath the hard skin.
“I want you to feel how much I love you,” she said. And the warmth of her hand penetrated and wrapped itself snug around his heart.
And he did. He took it with him when he left her, alone and pregnant. Even when he married another, she was with him. He felt the warmth of her in the summer raindrops, the silence of sleepless nights, and most often in his dreams.
The years were not kind to him. He tried to drink her away. The love, however, held on, waiting to be returned to the one who gave it. It’s been almost a lifetime, and the girl, now an old woman, visits him every day. Her love never returned. The boy she gave it to at 15 took it with him. She trembles as she kneels down to put her hand upon his grave.
“I just want you to feel how lonely my life was without you.”