Touching Poems Novels & Stories

He bowed his head in shame when he heard my words. "What am I supposed to do to heal the wounds? Please tell me what to do. I'm willing to do anything to heal the wounds. It hurts me as much as it hurts you. Please tell me how to go about it. I'm willing to do it." He pleaded, clinging to my hand so tightly as though he was afraid that I would disappear into thin air. It had been one full week since he last touched me and I hated to admit that his touch still sparked the fire inside me despite everything.

She responded and nodded softly to him but then the robe shifted when she reached for a cup, revealing a hint of her cleavage. I looked away too swiftly and hated the reaction almost immediately. We didn’t say anything to each other. I drank my coffee while she poured tea, after which I felt her glance flick toward me, cautious. Then she moved past me to grab honey for which her body brushed against my arm. It was accidental but my body registered it coupled with the faint scent of lavender that hovered in the air. She reacted too. I could tell from the way her strides hurried before she stopped on the other side of the counter.

The words were as faint as a whisper but lit with the intensity of a gazed Visha immediately held; her hands reached out to touch me. They drifted over my breast before gliding down to stroke my bottom; a shivery tickle ran down my spine. Touches are a spark that sets fire to something that would devour me. Suddenly, my heart beat fast and I suddenly felt so excited about life. With a husky voice, immersed in all the means, "I love you too." The words slipped out as if 'a devotion had just spilled on these lips:' it lets one feel naked. Visha faced breaking into a wide grin, brightening up with triumph while beaming out her eyes' happiness, a kiss in-between her lips.

separated her from the lover. "I have another one titled How do I love thee. Elizabeth Barret Browning. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

It was like even the moon was her lover tonight. I wanted to laugh at myself. Since when had I been a poet? Never. And yet, as I continued to take my fill of Flora, continued to touch, to taste her delicate skin, I found out that I didn’t mind a little touch of poetry in my life. I traced my lips down the slender column of her neck, taking in the earthiness of her scent. If she was wearing any perfume, I couldn’t tell, but I loved the scent of her. Sweet and earthy; it was all Flora and I could very much get addicted to it…to her. I kissed my way down her collarbone to the valley between her breasts. She shivered under my touch, her breath uneven. If I strained my ear, I could hear the rapid

The noise stopped in my head but one question popped up, why did the girl sit behind me where there were so many vacant chairs inside? The question faded when I realized that was not my concern. So, I went back to reading until such time I finished doing my research. When I was done, I gathered all the books I took, I even fixed my jacket. When I was about to bring them back to the shelves, I stood up and carried them when accidently, the girl and I bumped to each other. So, technically, he touched me, I touched her. Due to excessive fear combined with surprise, I froze like I was under a spell wherein I was motionless. I could not even breathe; the fact that we touched each other, for sure,

It was as dark as ink, a murky dark color, it seemed that only a gust of wind was enough to knock the lonely girl standing on La Ho bridge to the river, raindrops fluttering in that darkness. Although she couldn't see clearly, it made her eyes wet. She also didn't know if it was the raindrops caught on her long eyelashes or her own rare tears falling down. Hands clinging to the cold bridge, made by many raindrops, the more she clings, the more slippery she feels, just wanting to let go.

Touch. What a delicate sense. The feeling of someone touching my body left me breathless… I couldn’t see or hear; all I could do was feel. Lips making their way down my body. Hands caressing my skin as if I were a fragile doll that could break any moment. I felt the person causing these strange feelings come up to my ear and whisper, “I want you.” The voice was deep and husky. I didn’t know who the owner was, but my body ached for whoever he was. My lips parted,

she repeated. When he released his grip, she staggered several steps in her heels, not because he’d pushed her, by any means—he’d actually been quite gentle—but because her mind was reeling. Something had happened to her at Lucien’s touch. His words. It was like a sealed door inside her had been thrown wide open, and what she saw in the depths of her being had excited and bewildered her in equal measures. Discipline. Need. Her heart raced faster yet as she recalled the words uttered in Lucien’s low, silky tones. She headed toward the doors. Out of pure habit, she threw a rebellious glance over her shoulder.

The world outside ceased to exist as our bodies moved together in perfect synchrony, each touch and caress kindling the flames of passion that burned within us. His hands explored the curves of my body, tracing delicate patterns along my skin, leaving a trail of electric sensations in their wake. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down my spine, igniting a fire that consumed me from within. With every gentle stroke, he whispered words of adoration, his voice a soothing melody that echoed in my ears.