Hugs should be short.

Hugs should be short. You should not get used to the smell of the other person's hair, you might miss it later.

It should be short, because after a few seconds - if they are two people - they would both wonder what to do.

It should be short. How ever, the silhouettes must be carved body to body, and leave that feeling of absence that leave the pillows when they are away of the faces that just wake up.

They must be short, so that the desire of the hug is not satisfied, and then, want to hug again.

Because, among the saddest things in this world are the complete hugs. Those in which you say "It was enough" and a glass silence reigns, and nobody wants to break it; because they feel comfortable, or no one wants to pick up the broken glass from the window of silence.

And so it goes, you fly like a sparrow, into your own reflection, into the hug. And suddenly an onomatopoeia announces the irremediable breaking of the glass. And the long hug embrace us tinging the clouds with gray tones.
Therefore, the hugs should be short.