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The moon hangs low tonight,
soft as a whispered promise,
and its silver glow settles over us
like a gentle hand smoothing the dark.

You curl against me,
warm and unhurried,
your breath brushing my chest
in a rhythm that feels older
than anything we could name.

The night wraps around us,
not heavy,
just enough to make the world fade
until it’s only your warmth
and the quiet pulse of the moment.

My fingers trace slow patterns
along your arm,
not asking for anything,
just learning the shape of your calm
in the moonlit hush.

You shift closer,
a soft sigh escaping you,
and it feels like the whole sky
leans in to listen.

There’s no urgency here,
no fire that burns too bright—
just a steady glow,
a shared warmth,
a gentle flame that flickers
between our bodies
and refuses to go out.

And in this quiet,
with the moon watching softly,
I realize how rare it is
to feel this safe,
this close,
this perfectly at ease
in someone’s arms.

COMMENTS

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Adain
06:06 Apr 25 2026

A gentle and beautiful poem and a pleasure to read. Soothing I find.

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Myrnda
06:34 Apr 25 2026

🙏 thank you

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You felt me before you saw me—
the way water feels the moon,
a pull beneath the ribs,
ancient and undeniable.

Two currents meeting in the dark,
silent at first,
but already choosing
how to drown together.

Your presence moved like deep water,
slow, knowing,
carrying secrets in its undertow.
Mine rose to meet it,
a tide answering a tide,
drawn by instinct older than breath.

We circled each other
like storms deciding whether to merge,
dangerous only because
we understood the cost of depth.

Your eyes held the kind of darkness
that doesn’t frighten—
the kind that invites,
that whispers of hidden caverns
and forbidden constellations
glimmering beneath the surface.

When you touched my thoughts,
not my skin,
the world shifted.
Two oceans aligning.
Two shadows recognizing
the shape of their own hunger.

No fire could match this.
No earth could anchor it.
Only water knows
how to love by becoming,
how to claim without taking,
how to pull another soul close
without ever breaking the surface.

And so we move—
tide to tide,
moon‑marked,
dangerous in our softness,
devoted in our depth,
two water signs
learning the art
of drowning gently
in each other’s dark.

COMMENTS

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dracken
22:49 Apr 24 2026

This is it, the water bomb : )

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Myrnda
22:50 Apr 24 2026

Lol why thank you 🙏

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