When you touch me

I feel like I’m home all over again.

Grounded.

Like the hush of dawn slipping through linen curtains,

warmth stretching lazy across my skin.

Fingertips trace maps I’ve forgotten,

leading me back to a place I’m never meant to leave.

Soft whispers in the hollow of my neck,

echoes of a language only our bodies speak.

The way your hands claim me…

not like possession, but like recognition,

like something sacred you’ve held before

and vowed never to lose again.

You press against me, slow and certain,

like moonlight kissing the ocean’s spine.

And I breathe you in, deep,

until the air tastes like forever.

When you touch me,

I am found.

I am home.

Xoxo, Drea