"So you pressed a flower into my palm, and told me that a rose was not nearly as beautiful as my smile. I blushed and shook my head, disbelieving you. I traced my fingers along your lips, and told you that you too were handsome, trying to deflect your love and attention. But you wouldn’t be shaken off, you wouldn’t leave my gentle skin unloved, untouched. Images of your women before me flashed through my eyes, but you wiped them away with a simple kiss to the side of my lips. You murmured truths I had yet to believe into my seashell ear, and I gasped, tears in my eyes. I had never felt beautiful until you loved me. And now that you do, sometimes, when it’s dark outside and there’s nothing in the world but you and me and our love, I can feel myself glowing." —

moderateclimates

 
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