Your Taste

You, 

The night still tastes of you.

Even now, as I write by the dim light of my dressing table, my hands tremble from the echo of your touch. Outside, the sea hums in the distance, a sound that feels like it belongs to us alone.

You looked at me tonight as though you knew every truth I’ve tried to bury. And still you came closer. You didn’t ask for permission; you claimed it with your mouth, with your hands, with the way your breath tangled with mine. I can still feel the press of your palm against the small of my back, guiding me or perhaps warning me.

With you, I’m never certain where the line between danger and devotion lies and that is precisely why I cannot resist you. If they knew… if anyone knew… the walls of this chateau would say our names long after we were gone.

But for now, it is only the velvet night that carries our secret. I don’t know when I will see you again,  only that I will count the hours, measure the days by the slow ache you’ve left in me.

Until the next shadowed hour finds us.

I am yours, 

I am yours, in ways I haven’t said out loud x