#his touch

who knows my every curve.

The way he tells me my body is perfect (even tho I know it isn't)

while massaging every sacred part of me

brings a intimate vibe of its very own.

He likes to leave the light on and watch me get naked

I'm comfortable enough to do so for him.

I've never had any confidence to undress for a man in the lighting

But this man spoke that confidence into me.

He takes his time making sure I'm satisfied;

and oh

he does satisfy.

Nobody's ever done it like him.

When he kisses me

his lips are like silk pressed against mine.

His touch stills her mind... her soul, a churning river turning calm, rooted; passion, a warm light flooding through her veins, whispering — love.

She wishes he understood how much his touch stayed with her, long after he was gone.

The heat of his fingertips tracing her chin.

The way his handprint shadows her skin.

How his touch lives in her memory as she washes, touching herself...

He's there. He's always there.