there was a moment - still, golden.. when her skin met mine and my mind fell silent. this wasn’t just desire. it was something older, deeper. like my soul, who had been waiting lifetimes, had found its home.
she looked at me like I belonged, and I melted into her as if I always had. tasting her, touching her, felt like being handed the language of the stars.
there aren’t words for what it felt like to touch her like that. to be inside her, to taste the kind of beauty that ruins you in the best way; soft, wild, holy. like poetry with a pulse. she is raw beauty, quiet fire, a universe I want to spend forever unfolding.
and I can’t wait to place my promise on her finger.
“Cleo’s like a cat,” said Frank. “She can touch you, but you can’t touch her. That’s her thing.”
— Coco Mellors, Cleopatra and Frankenstein