The Texture of Sunlight on Skin

I sit here with the wind combing through my hair, wearing nothing but open weave and golden light. The ocean hums a quiet rhythm against the hull, slowing down time to match my breathing. There is no need for heavy words today; only this warmth on my skin feels real.

I remember how you looked at me before we boarded your gaze lingering like sunlight on linen soft but intense enough to burn away all doubt. Here where the world falls back into blue nothingness, I feel untouchable yet known completely by a glance alone.

Editor: Pure Linen