Moonlight on Bare Skin

The city is a distant hum, remembered only in the rhythm of my breathing. Here, there is nothing but salt air and silence.
He arrives without words, just the soft sound of footsteps on sand. He does not touch me yet; he simply stands beside me under the full moon, his presence like a warm blanket draped over my shoulders.
I lean back against the cool linen, feeling the night wind tangle in my hair and brush across my skin. I can hear his heart beating—a steady, quiet promise that everything is okay now.
When he finally reaches for me, it is not with passion but with a tenderness that heals old wounds. His fingers trace the line of my jaw, lingering there as if memorizing every curve.
I close my eyes and let myself be small in his light.

Editor: Pure Linen