In the hush of stone and shadow,
she waits — not for rescue,
but for the kind of love
that knows how to be still.
Her body speaks in whispers,
lace and light dancing across skin
like a lover’s hands in twilight.
Here, between earth and breath,
romance blooms without a sound —
a quiet fire,
a tender storm.
Peter Wylie
2025-05-31 12:44:15 +0000 UTC