n talking to each other it became crystal clear to both of us and the freshness of life flooded us.
He radiated light in his troubles and what he said, how he said it and the timbre of his voice, all my cells were illuminated. When we spoke, there was some intoxication of love.
Then I had only one wish: to sleep at his heart.
Our relationship was wonderful and good, it was fantastic to hear each other, to see, to feel each other all those years. The building blocks that became insights.
There were no significant relationships when we met.
We agreed to save our garden for the foxes who would like to come in irrevocably. We succeeded too.
The relationship started and soon we got married. We belonged together.
My beloved died in my arms after a sick bed. My mourning has not ended yet.
He brought me great happiness in life, a source of power, always drawing on the source and sharing. Every memory of him is a resting point for me and an echo of warmth and loyalty.
The most special thing for me was the glittering lightness, the humor, the conquering of difficulties together, the conversation, the touch, the eye contact, the joy.
Eroticism between us was the wonderful way in which true love can express itself
My soul love was complete, very, healthy.
My soul beloved is led through the gate of death but feeds me with life.
I am not looking for and expect a new soul love. I am still completely saturated.
My tip: I actually only read on this site Shame about the pain and the accident and uncertainty that this kind of love brings to many. Worrying. It seems as if finding the great treasure highlights the perhaps already present pain of being alone.