Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The first cherry blossom of spring trembled on its branch, a delicate pink promise against the stark blue sky. His fingers, rough from work, traced the line of my jaw with a reverence that stole my breath. I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his palm cradle my cheek, a silent language more profound than any words. The gentle breeze carried the faint, sweet scent of the blossoms, mingling with the clean, familiar smell of his skin. When I opened my eyes, his gaze held mine, a deep pool of unspoken longing and tender affection. My hand found his, our fingers intertwining like the gnarled roots of the ancient trees surrounding us. A single petal drifted down, landing softly in my hair, and he brushed it away with a touch so light it was barely a whisper. In that suspended moment, the entire world narrowed to the space between our slowly closing lips. The air itself seemed to hum with the fragile, beautiful tension of a heart unfurling for the very first time. It was a quiet collision of souls, as soft and inevitable as the falling of the petals.
Comments
Post a Comment