- Execution is ART.
Cigarette ash kisses the edge of a half-empty glass, the taste of sin lingering on bitten lips. The night hums, thick with smoke and something heavier-something electric. A whisper of pearls against bare skin, a ghost of touch where bruises should be. Velvet hands, slow as spilled wine, tracing secrets into fever-warmed flesh.
One was written in Pearls. The other adorned it with smoke.
Desire drips like candle wax, pooling in the spaces between shadows and silk. A love that tastes like nicotine and moonlight, that burns as softly as whispered names in the dark. Between smoke and pearls, between teeth and tenderness, between ruin and rapture- what does it mean to belong?
Loverisque (adj.) | /ˈlʌv.ə.rɪsk/
Dripping in desire-a love so intoxicating it clings to the skin like the scent of smoke on silk.
Seductive, but not just in body-in soul. A romance that lingers in the marrow, smoldering like the last embers of a forbidden fire.
Not quite risqué, not quite romantic-something in between. Love that teeters on the edge of sin and poetry, where passion is both an art and a crime.
A lover's touch that leaves fingerprints on the soul, not just the skin.
"Their love wasn't just passionate; it was loverisque-like pearls slipping through stained fingers, like whispered sins at midnight."
-Loverisque. Labyrinthine. Laced in lust.
Vicente remembers the lights that shone within the city he was born in, and the darkness he and his family have been dragged through in his eighteen years of life. Having jumped from home to home the moment he was born, he prays, he hopes for a place he can settle down in, as bright and beautiful as his birthplace.
This is the biography of a boy who cannot fit in, forced to take up the role of caretaker of his younger siblings, too good to be bad and too bad to be good - unremarkable, insignificant, malcontent with his malcontent. This is a telling of family, love, friendship, good food and home.