i’ve always believed hugs to be warm until you refused to meet my eye and everything about you read regret.
we wanted to forget so we hugged, but the hug itself was made out of apologies spoken from quivering lips, raw throats throbbing from all the screaming, and shameful gazes hung above wet cheeks.
our last hug ached when we tore apart. it ached because it knew as much as we’d like for the adhesion to last, no amount of layers we apply to the cracks will be enough to keep us together.
i used to always find warmth in your hugs, but our last hug was ice cold.