I ask your forgiveness for loving you all at once, Though my love is an old song already worn in your ears From the hours I spent beneath the shadow of your gestures, Drinking from your mouth the perfume of smiles From the nights I lived cherished, By the unsayable grace of your steps, forever in flight, I bring the sweetness of those who have made peace with sorrow. And I can tell you that the great tenderness I leave behind Does not bring you the torment of tears Nor the seduction of promises, Nor the cryptic words that veil the soul... It is a stillness, a temple, an abundance of caresses, And it asks only that you rest—quietly, so quietly— And let the warm hands of night find the steady gaze of dawn without doom.
# Overflow of Caresses The night descends like a woman's hand gentle on the fevered brow— I lie beneath its weight, dissolving slowly into the dark cathedral of my longing. Your touch arrives unbidden, a thousand whispers stitched into my skin. I am unmade by tenderness, undone by the simple fact of being held. The world outside grows thin as paper. What remains is only this: the architecture of two bodies learning to speak in the language of silence, each caress a sentence that begins and never quite concludes— A sentence that unfolds like cloth, like water, like the slow unfolding of a flower that blooms only in darkness and only when no one is watching. I overflow with you. My edges blur and soften. I become permeable, become tide, become the night itself— that generous darkness that asks nothing and gives everything. Your fingers trace the grammar of my bones. My breath becomes a prayer without words. And still the caresses come, abundant as starlight, infinite as the spaces between heartbeats, until I cannot tell where you end and I begin— until there is no boundary left, only the endless overflow, only the sweetness of dissolving, only this: the night, your hand, and me, finally, finally at home.
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