The three hundred and twentieth thing I love about us is imagining the sand beneath our feet in a moonlit desert and knowing how lush and full of life the two of us together would make that beautiful desolation feel.
Soft, so soft, your lips against mine. I am grazed by their grace and drunk on their wine. We touch and we taste, endlessly divine engrossed...
I would hold your hand and look at the moon and wiggle my toes in that sand for hours.
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