You meet someone for the first time the way you approach a quiet establishment to ask if they're closed. You don't walk into the door, looking for a signboard first. The conversation could be about anything, you find things that are yours and you realize they're theirs too. Aches, memories, maybe the hearth in your souls you've both been too scared to tend to. It feels like peeking into a window on a walk, subtle, apprehensive and skittish. You pretend not to know whether you could live there if fate allowed it.
You don't start with intensity. You must become a little familiar with each other first, maybe knock on their door and wave through the glass. Before their name makes its home in your mouth.
Its a whisper. On some level, even if it's superficial, we see each other. What shall I call you now? Because I want to call you. Again, and again. I must call you something.
You can have my name too. I have so much more to give you, but this must satisfy your hunger for now. My offerings come slow, I can't lose you to gluttony. I hope you'll keep it safe between your teeth, caress it with your tongue. It's a gamble of course, but at least I'll walk away with your name too. And my canines are as sharp as ever.
dailybridgerton
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
kaledo-art
annaxmalina
baratheonpilled
andulkaphoto
