Corazón

⁰⁰⁷ : 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚂𝚒𝚡 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚃𝚘

He gazeth on me, blinded by the glow,
Unknowing shadows round him swiftly grow.
His love, so pure, yet doth his fate ignore,
While I, with guile, prepare his final door.
A smile I cast, though poison hides behind,
He walks to death, yet thinks me gentle, kind.

His heart, though strong, doth beat in vain for me,
Unseeing steps, where death doth wait in glee.
Each glance he gives, a noose I weave with grace,
To snare him in my web, his doom in place.
He knows not that his love’s sweet, foolish flame,
Shall burn him low whilst I but watch the same.

...

☘ ꜱᴜᴢᴇᴛᴛᴇ ᴅᴇꜱʀᴏꜱɪᴇʀꜱ ☘

The conical tent rises in splendid grandeur, its canvas walls bathed in a soft, golden luminescence that enfolds the structure like a tender embrace. The ambient light imbues the space with a serene, almost otherworldly glow, transforming the tent into a snug haven against the encroaching twilight. Within, four opulent cushions are arranged with meticulous care upon the ground, accompanied by a luxurious silk throw that invites me to recline and surrender to comfort.

I approach the tent, choosing to settle myself first without awaiting his arrival. The silk's cool texture against my skin contrasts beautifully with the gentle warmth of the ambient light. I lift my gaze to find him observing me with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, his eyes shimmering with the golden hues of our intimate setting.

His desires are easily discernible, as transparent as the constellation-strewn sky beyond our tent. Yet, a low rumble from my stomach asserts its presence, reminding me of my immediate need. Hunger, after all, takes precedence over unspoken yearnings.

"I'm famished," I announce, placing a theatrical hand over my midriff. He responds with an exasperated roll of his eyes and a resigned sigh, his gaze meeting mine with a touch of reluctant acquiescence. As he turns away, unaware of my playful gesture, I stick out my tongue with mischievous delight.

Our dinner unfolds in a delightful symphony of flavors. We recline beneath the soft illumination of the tent, sharing morsels as we marvel at the star-studded canvas above. His playful initiation of this meal was marked by his sudden presentation of a forkful of Caprese Chicken Saltimbocca—an exquisite dish he prepared himself. Though he revels in boasting about his myriad talents, I must concede that his culinary prowess is genuinely exceptional.

Moreover, his intuitive grasp of my preferred level of spice is a charming revelation. Isn’t it splendid? Not only is he a feast for the eyes, but he is also a masterful chef. As I consider this, my gaze drifts upward, where the night sky unfolds in all its splendor. The Milky Way stretches like a celestial river of stardust, each star a glimmering jewel in the vast, dark expanse.

Yet, this evening promises to be long, and with his presence here, I seize the opportunity to glance at him as he produces two bottles of wine and glasses. Before I can act upon my plan, I must first send this fool away.

...

I had assumed he possessed a formidable tolerance for alcohol, but it seems I was mistaken. His cheeks are flushed, and his ears are tinged with red, betraying his inebriated state. With a weary sigh, I rise, brushing the sand from my hands, steeling myself for the task ahead.