Touch of the Soul

It wasn’t a dream, but the night felt like one. The moonlight caressed our bare bodies with a soft cotton veil, soothing and silent. There was no noise, only the language of stillness — the kind that only two naked hearts can hear. He said nothing, and I asked nothing, yet something ancient passed between us — without words, without voices, just the trust of touch.

We were bare, not in animalistic abandon — but in that sacred realm where the body ends, and something more begins. Our souls wrapped around each other in the magic of breath and sensation.

His touch was like words finding meaning — like forgotten poetry awakening inside me. When his lips grazed my shoulder, a silent call echoed deep within — of love, of surrender, of a desire long contained. I was held in his arms, not as a prisoner, but as someone finally free.

With every breath, his scent entered me — not the scent of sweat, but of hidden dreams blooming. Those moments weren’t like some romantic film — they were the script of my skin, lines I had never read aloud.

When we touched, it wasn’t only the surface of skin meeting skin — it was something deeper. It was the trembling of a self long locked away. His fingers traced along my back as if writing sacred verses on my soul, and I trembled not only because he touched me — but because I was, for the first time, truly feeling myself.

That night passed, but his memory remained. That union — not just of flesh but of feelings and essence — settled into my bones. He completed something inside me, like a final verse completing an unfinished poem.

Our naked bodies weren’t a show of lust, but of truth — raw, without pretense. That night, we didn’t just find each other. We found ourselves.

This is the real touch of love — not only physical but emotional, psychological, spiritual. When your eyes are closed, but your soul sees everything. And that’s exactly what happened between us.

The closeness was not only of skin — it was of truth, vulnerability, and union. It was love stripping itself bare — and only then could we truly be close.