It was the warmth: of your shirt, of your arm resting on mine, of your lips kissing me ever so lightly, of the sheets underneath our twisting bodies.
Temporariness shrouded the moment, but I didn't care. I still don't. The fleeting nature of it was perhaps what made it even more special.
You may bury it deep in your head, substituting it with triviality, yet we will always have this memory of you, and me, and that one night when everything made sense.