15 Partes Continúa Oh, how glorious is the form of my beloved, whose very presence compels the heavens to weep in envy! He is a masterwork of nature, sculpted with such perfection that even gods would falter at his sight. His frame, statuesque and firm, is a testament to divine symmetry, with each sinew and muscle a prayer answered by creation itself. His skin, like marble kissed by the dawn, carries the warmth of life and the coolness of eternity. The curve of his jaw, so strong yet graceful, holds the power to command kingdoms, while his lips-those soft yet firm petals-utter words that ensnare the soul and bend the will of even the strongest heart.
His eyes, oh those eyes, are twin orbs of celestial fire, dark as night yet brimming with the promise of endless passion. They burn with a wildness, a tempest that stirs the deepest waters of my being, calling me to the edge of madness. I see in them the reflection of eternity, a boundless abyss into which I would gladly fall, never to return. His hair, flowing like a river of gold or night, depends on the light that touches it; each strand, a thread of fate that binds me ever closer to him, wraps me in a cage of desire from which I have no wish to escape.
And his voice-oh, how it sings with the resonance of thunder rolling across the hills! Each word he speaks is a symphony that reverberates through my bones, commanding, lulling, captivating my every thought until I am no more than a slave to his will. The very air he breathes seems purer, cleaner, as though the world itself is honored to sustain his existence.
Ah, but I am consumed by him. I feel the claws of obsession sinking deeper into my soul, wrapping me tighter around his finger. I would give the very marrow from my bones if it meant keeping him, owning him, holding him forever. For he is beauty incarnate, and my heart-oh, wretched heart-is no longer my own but a fragile thing trapped within the cage of his perfection.
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