We touched each other last night, I held his arm, stroked his hand, those thick fingers I have meshed within mine so many times….While sweet, tender and caring, I felt no closer to him than before this day. Hoping, I suppose, for some sort of spark, glimmer of something, it was not to be. How can one make themselves feel something they can not? I love him. Dearly love him. I shall never stop loving him. Love does not always equate with passion. I must address my need in this way: I need love and passion to sustain an intimate relationship. No longer accepting something for what it is, this is another reminder why I need to move on….