"One eighth of my heart is for tea & penning silly things on blank pages."
she murmurs under her slow breaths.

A little inward gasp falters her heartbeat upon the realization that the seven eighths of her heart has been unwittingly stolen by Mister Him.

"Sweet-heart, you have managed to take one ∞ of mine."
His voice is like buttery sunshine on winter-bitter skin.

"That's not possible, silly boy!"
Her smile punctuating each letter, sighs of bliss lives in the spaces.

"What I meant was: You have taken all of me. Not just my heart.
Soul & body.
The little kaleidoscope of moments I think at 2am are already hopelessly tangled with that hell of a smile, the astute wittiness
and
the
curve
of
your waist."

For now, I have only taken one whole of your lips. I think. He pauses and winks a upside crescent moon.

I have made you

*speechless.