Quotes About Intimacy

I can smell him. The oils that he uses on his feet, pomegranate and sandalwood; the salt of clean sweat; the hyacinths we had walked through, their scent crushed against our ankles. Beneath it all is his own smell, the one I go to sleep with, the one I wake up to. I cannot describe it. It is sweet, but not just. It is strong but not too strong. Something like almond, but that still is not right. Sometimes, after we have wrestled, my own skin smells like it.

Hands, smooth and strong, reaching to touch me. I know those hands.

The space beside me on the bed was empty, but the pillow still held the shape of him, and the sheets smelled of us both.

and I thought of how many nights I had lain awake in this room loving him in silence.

He is half my soul as the poets say. I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell. I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

That was another thing about him. He made you want to spill your secrets.

will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.

moment he woke and knew me. Our limbs slid against one another, on paths that we had traced so many times before, yet

I could recognize him by touch alone, smell, I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

He showed me his scars. And in return he let me pretend that I had none.

We were like gods, at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.

I lean forward and our lips land clumsily on each other. They are like the fat bodies of bees, soft and round and giddy with pollen. I can taste his mouth — hot and sweet with honey from dessert. My stomach trembles, and a warm drop of pleasure spreads beneath my skin. More .

How easily I touch my lips to her hair, soft and smelling of lavender. She sighs a little, nestles closer. Almost, I can imagine that this is my life, held in the sweet circle of her arms. I would marry her, and we would have a child.

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell, I would know him blind, by the way his breath came and his feet struck to earth.

His eyes were unwavering, green flecked with gold. A surety rose in me, lodged in my throat. I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me. If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth.

Patroclo. —Aquiles no apretujó las sílabas de mi nombre como solía hacer la gente, que las apelotonaba todas juntas, como si quisiera liberarse del nombre. En vez de eso, hizo resonarlas todas. Pa-tro-clo.

If he had looked at me then, I would have broken. I would have begun to weep and never stopped.

Briseis," I said. "If I ever wished to take a wife, it would be you." "But you do not wish to take a wife." "No," I said, as gently as I could.

Later, we lay on the riverbank, learning the lines of each other's bodies anew. This, and this and this. We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.

No es una muestra de genialidad buscar un atajo al corazón?

Je le reconnaîtrais rien qu'au toucher, ou à son odeur, je le reconnaîtrais si j'étais aveugle, aux seuls bruits de sa respirations et de ses pas martelant le sol. Je le reconnaîtrais dans la mort, à la fin du monde.

He holds me all night long, pressing my cold hands to his mouth.

I reached across that breathing air between us and found him.

He puts a hand down, to lean against. The muscles in his arm curve softly, appearing and disappearing as he moves. His eyes are deep green on mine. My pulse jumps, for no reason I can name. He has look at me a thousand thousand times, but there is something different in this gaze, an intensity I do not know. My mouth is dry, and I can hear the sound of my throat as I swallow.