𝑻𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑯𝑶𝑵𝑬𝒀, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔

❀ 𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑺 𝑳𝑬 𝑱𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑰𝑵 / 𝑮𝑬𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑬

dans le jardin / feb. 17
༊
'70

i would kneel beside him and feel the suction of the rich soil as my knees gradually sunk deeper into its arms. my sundress would brown at the hem, but i'd accept it without dismay.

together, we'd plunge our fingers into the freshly wet earth and brush the dewy stems that bled their primary hues marvelously.

he'd be so focused and i'd eventually gain my own focus, though i'd fight the urge to finger through his long brown waves.

we'd laugh together as we spoke to each budding petal and shared secrets with our own bundle of flowers, lips beating against the dripping reds and yellows and pinks.

i'd ask him if i was doing it right; if i could be more delicate. he'd guide my hands with his long fingers, caressing them absently.

my wedding band would glisten beneath his dirtied fingertips.

he'd be so close that his breath would stroke my neck and tickle lightly at my face.

"my lovely flower," he'd whisper against my ear and i would hum in delight, blood rushing to my cheeks. he'd kiss the reddened skin and i'd smile shyly.

his arm would wrap around me and grab my side, tangling itself in my dress as he pulled me closer, delivering another needy kiss which i would return, letting it fall upon his mouth of sinuous lips.

we'd fall along the grass, smudging dirt all over our golden bodies as the birds chirped endlessly above.