He palms my neck.
I begin to melt.
And forget the noise
in my head.

The world narrows
a pulse, a breath,
the hush between
what’s said and felt.

His thumb traces
a quiet map
across my skin
a promise kept.

The air folds inward,
soft as dusk;
I lose my name
to the warmth of trust.

His breath finds mine
a tide, a vow,
the world dissolves,
and I allow.

My pulse becomes
a whispered thread,
drawn through the dark
where thought has fled.

The ground forgets
its weight, its name;
I fall, not down
but into flame.

Each heartbeat folds
the night in two,
and every silence
leads to you.

I fall through him
a slow unspooling,
a letting go
of all my edges.

His hands become
the only truth,
the only place
my body answers.

The world thins out
to warmth and pulse;
I give, I drift,
I’m carried whole.

And in that hush
where thought dissolves,
I feel myself
unravel, open.

Then stillness comes
a softer tide,
the kind that stays
after the storm.

Our breaths align,
unhurried now;
the quiet holds
what heat remains.

The night leans in,
but does not press;
we rest inside
its gentle cradle.

And in the glow
of what we spent,
I find a peace
I never meant.

And all the noise
I thought I carried
falls away
the moment he draws near.