I’ve Had Sex, but I Don’t Know What Making Love Feels Like
love is more than skin deep
I know everything — skin to skin, bodies moving in rhythms, and breathes intertwining. I’ve felt the fleeting satisfaction, But beneath it all, there’s an emptiness I can’t shake.
Because it was just that — touch. Just a connection of our body, not our souls.
Still don’t know what it is like to feel someone’s hand touching not just my skin but also in the fragile corners of my heart. What I want is to be truly seen — every fear, every scar, and every parts of me that I try to hide — and still be held in someone’s precious hand.
They say making love is different. They say it’s more than just the physical. It’s about trust and being so open with someone that the walls you’ve built crumbles into dust. But how do you find that if the world teaches us to guard ourselves, to equate intimacy with pleasure and not with connection?
I wonder if making love feels safe, like coming home. I wonder if it’s quiet and tender or overwhelming and breathtaking. I wonder if all of that at once.
Sometimes I also wonder If I’m looking at it in the wrong places. In some fleeting moments. In shallow connections. In the arms of people who never tried to know me truly rather than what I could give them.
But maybe making love isn’t something you chase, maybe it’ll find you when you learn to love yourself enough to know that you deserve more that just being wanted — you deserve to be cherished.
Until then I’ll keep waiting, not for someone who’ll complete me, but someone who will meet me halfway. Someone who will teach me what it means to not just be touched but to be truly loved.
*** phrase from milk and honey by Rupi Kaur (not personal experience)
