You said there isn’t an inch of my body you haven’t traced. Every curve, every strand of hair, every beauty mark, every little mole, all of it has felt and known your touch. As though you’ve taken the time to memorise me, not just the parts that are beautiful, but every little detail that makes this body mine.
You said you’d recognise me even if you were blind. That you’d know me by my scent, the softness of my lips, the feel of my hair between your fingers. That even without seeing me, you’d somehow know it was me. And I wonder if you realise how incredibly intimate that is. To be known so closely that even the absence of sight wouldn’t make me a stranger to you.
I don’t think anyone has ever taken the time to adore me quite so generously. Not like this. Not in whispers against my ear, not with their lips so close to my skin, not while holding me in the little nook of their body as though that was where I was always meant to fit. Not when there was nothing left to uncover, no distance left between us, no more ways for me to surrender.
