The backs of my knees taut.
The skin pulled tight around my bones, cartilage, and flesh.
Feeling blood pulse upwards,
passed my ankles, wrists, collar bones.
Up my neck, choking on the warmth.
Pooling behind my eyes, the cause of my capriciously flushed complexion.
Hand grazing the hem of silk, lingering on the curve of my lower back. Flippantly. Enveloped in the rich hum of the room humming deep in my inner ear. Startled by one voice only.
A level of unexpected closeness mimicking intimacy. Tactile turbulence tugging at the curtains of shielded memories of visceral serendipity.
Yet I stood in his quasi embrace, knowing it to be a formality of sorts — of sensuality, of adultness. An unspoken acknowledgment of personal concession.
To savour for a moment and tactfully forget.