Something so simple lies at the heart of these shadows we create as we move together towards the heart of the night. Words are no longer necessary. There is no need to explain or justify, or even demand. Each action grows from the shadows cast by moonlight through the open window as the trees rustle in the breeze, doing all the whispering we need.
The touch of each finger feels as delicate as one of those unspoken promises, even though it has the weight of years behind it. Familiarity is not an obstacle breeding complacency and routine, but a way through beyond the hesitancies of the unfamiliar and the new. Familiarity allows the touch to go far deeper than just skin against skin; each fingertip carries with it the weight of history and the ease of understanding.
Each movement grows out from a familiarity that never grows tired. Each kiss carries the memory of so many other kisses down over the years. Each touch traces a route over a map of possibilities made familiar from the distant lands our bodies once were.
Once, we thought we could know too much, and thus kept a distance and taught ourselves how to keep secrets. Now, though, we know there is no longer any need for secrets and that familiarity breeds understanding and contentment, not distance and contempt.