Whispers of Surrender: An Ode to Intimate Yearnings

 

“Not claimed, but chosen. Not taken, but trusted.” —Elowen

It’s dark outside, and I lie here thinking of you.
The memory of your kiss still lingers—
the way your hands traced the curve of my neck,
how my breath caught in rhythm with your touch.

My body remembers.
The way it moved beneath your fingertips,
the way my voice softened into sound,
the way my thoughts dissolved until only you remained.

I think of your voice—
those low, reverent words that wrapped around me like silk.
Yes, I was yours in that moment—
not claimed, but chosen.
Not taken, but trusted.

You moved with intention,
a quiet orchestration of devotion and desire.
And I, surprised by my own surrender,
found peace in letting go.

I never imagined giving up control could feel like coming home.
But in your hands, it wasn’t loss—it was liberation.

So I whisper now,
not in fear, but in offering:
Take me.
Not as possession,
but as presence.
Because I am already yours.

@notesformysoulmate

This piece is protected—not to tame the longing, but to honor the one who surrendered with grace.
Elowen speaks here—in breath, in trust, in the sacred hush between yes and yes.
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