Stay.
Not just in body,
But in breath, in touch,
In the quiet whisper of your heartbeat
Pressed against her back.
Don’t vanish into the cool air,
Don’t turn to shadows,
Don’t let the sheets become borders.
Stay.
Trace the curve of her shoulder,
A wandering whisper of fingertips.
Tangle your legs like lazy rivers,
Speak—softly, slowly—
Not with grand confessions,
But with the gentle drizzle of sweetness.
Tell her how her laughter
Feels like spring rain,
How her touch is a memory
You are still savoring.
Look at her—really look.
Let her see that even now,
Even in the quiet,
She is still the pulse beneath your skin.
If she pulls you closer,
Let your bodies fit like a puzzle solved.
If she smiles, smile with her—
A shared joke, a stolen breath.
If she drifts to sleep,
Breathe with her,
Be her safe harbor.
Moments like these are echoes
That linger,
Not just because of the passion,
But because of the peace.
This is where intimacy grows roots,
Not just in the fire,
But in the ash,
In the warmth that stays.
