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There is something in the quality of moonlight that gives us freedom to voice those feelings and emotions we might otherwise keep imprisoned - in the name of prudence or fear or safety - behind our teeth.
The sun chases away the shadows, and tells us to fear the dimming of the light, but there is a permissiveness and a wildness in darkness that looses the shackles we are taught to keep about our hearts and our tongues. And so it is only when the brightness of the day surrenders its dominion over our bodies that some truths of the soul can be illuminated.
In the ghostly, slanting light of the moon, two bodies nestled together so closely that not even shadows lay between them.
"I missed this."
"What do you mean?"
"This," came the soft reply, accompanied by the shift of a body, and the warm weight of a hand below her breast.
"I missed the way you feel in my arms, the smell of the shampoo you use in your hair. I missed the feel of your heart under my fingertips, and the heat of your body next to me. I missed you."
A gentle kiss, guided only by the unerring knowledge of her lover's body, was the reply.
"I missed you too."
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