Of the sort...

~ I cradle myself and rock back and forth. Robert approaches and puts his arms around me, wrapping me in his comforting warmth.
"Are you okay, baby?" he murmurs into my ear. Tears slip down my face and I try to formulate a response.
"No. It hurts." That's all I can get out. Somehow he understands. Direct connection can do that for you. He holds me tighter.
His shirt is soft against my face and he smells faintly of cedar and spices. His lips brush my neck and I am momentarily distracted from my desire to cry.
His love, more aptly, his empathy, expunges the ache in my heart and it all comes pouring out, bidden or not.
He rubs my back as the silent tears run down, wetting my lips, tasting of salt and grief. I leave them to their fate.
He has no need to speak. He's already said it all without uttering a word. ~
~ From the mind of Renee

I very rarely write in the first person, but I think that sometimes it works. Provides a level of insight that would not otherwise be possible.