Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The gentle breeze carried the sweet perfume of cherry blossoms, a fragrant veil that settled upon our secluded garden bench. His fingers, warm and tentative, traced the delicate line of my jaw as if memorizing its shape. I leaned into his touch, my eyes closing as a soft sigh escaped my lips, a silent testament to the longing that had bloomed within me. The world narrowed to the space between us, charged with an unspoken promise that made the air itself feel alive. He shifted closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and I could feel the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heart. When his gaze met mine, it was a deep, quiet pool of affection in which I felt utterly seen and cherished. Our foreheads gently touched, a tender prelude that spoke volumes more than any hurried confession. The distant song of a nightingale seemed to harmonize with the frantic beating within my own chest. In that suspended moment, as his lips finally met mine with exquisite softness, I tasted the pure, hopeful essence of spring itself. A profound sense of rightness washed over me, a feeling of coming home to a place I never knew I belonged.
Comments
Post a Comment