Light kisses my shoulder, reminding me of you.
Your hand rests low on my hip,
fingers mapping slow constellations
into skin still humming from night.
Your mouth finds the hollow of my neck
like a promise,
your breath warm, unhurried,
a language only I understand.
We move like waves—
not to get anywhere,
but to feel the pull,
to drift closer,
again and again.
The sheets remember our rhythm.
The world forgets us.
And in this quiet,
nothing outside this moment
calls us.
reflections of an unquiet mind 