A touch and all it's hidden shades of gray ... The Touch and all the screaming facts beneath it. So simple, yet such intense gift of deliberate affection or accidental flash of hidden desires. Skin on skin, like soul on soul, floating around the world of unspoken words. Unconditional symphony of instincts covered with sanity, the primal need of closeness and disability to ignore the heartbeat of most inner sympathies. Touch. Me. You. Breathing me in, so I can breathe you out - the everlasting game of everlasting life. Touch me. Because I am you and you are me. Because the night is so cold without it. Because I was born in your eye pupil and died in your tear. Besame. Besame mucho.