I love love as depressing as I am
But I love the intimacy-
There's beauty in holding hands
Secrets whispered closely at night,
That deeper understanding reached after the first fight

Working together to complete a goal
With someone beside you,
feeling so whole
Their laughter engraved in your head forever-
There's never been a sound that you've loved better

Caressing their face when
sadness reigns king,
Using their favorites to make them
feel seen
The electricity between two
lovers touching,
The honeymoon phase flirting that leaves them both blushing

A lover always has that certain smirk,
When everything is new and
you love every quirk
You get to be silly no matter your age,
Like fictional romance flew off the page

I love when silence doesn't have to ache,
When it's shared, not something you fake
Two mugs in the morning and
a tangled bedspread,
A soft “good morning” with a
kiss to their head

The little things that no one would see,
Like saving the last bite of dessert
just for me,
Or hearing my favorite song
and hitting repeat,
Because love lives in gestures,
not just in lusts heat

I love how romance is art in motion,
How it mirrors moonlight
across a vast ocean
Not always easy, not always bright,
But it's something sacred in both
storm and light

Maybe I'm dark and I like
to write about sorrow
But I love love even when I have
none to borrow

The heat pressed down on my skin like your hands once did—
slow, steady, unforgettable.

My mouth was dry, my body aching—
but it wasn’t water I needed.
It was you.

The Strip pulsed around us—
neon lights flashing, voices rising,
solicitors reaching from every side.

But the moment your fingers found mine,
the chaos faded.
You made me feel safe in a place built to make people forget.

The feathered girls brushed past like temptation,
the phony cops played their parts with easy charm.
They moved through the crowd like they owned it—
but none of them saw me.

Not like you did.
Not with that quiet intensity,
not with the calm in your touch
that steadied everything inside me.

You held me close like the night belonged to us.
Your eyes found mine
like you already knew how the rest of it would go—
how the Strip would disappear,
how the only lights that mattered
would be the ones reflecting off your skin.

Even before you touched me,
my body was already aching for you.

But it wasn’t just want.
It was the way you looked at me
like I was seen.
Known.
Wanted in every way.

A man slept in the gutter like the city had swallowed him whole.
A woman begged, her eyes rehearsed.
A barefoot soul wandered through the noise,
forgotten.

Everything around us was dressed in false light—
but you,
you were the truth beneath it all.

And when we were finally alone,
you didn’t just undress me—
you unraveled me.

Soft at first,
then with the kind of hunger
that left me breathless.

You touched me like I was something sacred,
like you knew every part of me
deserved to be remembered.

I think about that night more than I should.
How you whispered things
that still echo in places I keep hidden.

How your mouth moved like prayer across my skin.
How you made me forget
every version of myself that came before.

People talk about Vegas
like it’s unforgettable—
but nothing there ever touched me
like you did.

And sometimes,
when the world feels too loud again,
I close my eyes
and return to that night—

not to the Strip,
but to you.