"Good morning," My voice would softly tickle the tips of your ears, from how gently I was placing my breath on your precious skin. I would trace constellations, a thread of galaxies, on your flesh with the softest peak of my fingers. Your mind would spiral enough to transmit messages for your cheeks to burn severely then softly, as my lips would hint at your lips like the lightest feather in the universe.
You stayed silent, basking in the glorification of the sunlight, of how it bedazzled my eyes to mumble fervency. Words would not be needed, as they recklessly holler out to be a necessity to plummet the quietude of our moment.
No need to be frank with me at this moment as I already believed that the most void of lies and the brightest of truths would clash in this peaceful spectacle we share.
With a delicate and juvenile smile, you reciprocated such kindness, stirring my mind as a blooming cherry blossom ready to be grasped tenderly by a beautiful goddess who could not even compare to you and your charm.
YOU ARE READING
to my future love.
PoetryHave you ever felt the depths of your heart have its groundbreaking display to ever grace the world? It goes with the gentle zephyr to linger within every skip of the lonesome soul, every waltz of such faint fingertips, and every exaltation of sweet...
