/ˈsʌnsɛt/
noun: the time in the evening when the sun disappears or daylight fades.
But that day, that moment of that particular aura it didn’t fade or disappeared. It stayed.
Background score of rainfall was as beautiful as it could be and I was as lost in his eyes as my soul wanted to be.
On a soothing temperature day in a blanket when that one whisper sent goosebumps down my skin and yet holding hands warmed it.
I confirmed to myself that you were the perfect combination of ice and fire.
And reflexively saw you grimacing about me, twisting things.
I, a philophobic, can assure that just lying down with you can make my heart reach 120 bpm.
Because when we almost kissed a million times that evening, every time I felt your heartbeat, it felt like mine.
Being in love with you doesn’t demand a return.
It just makes me feel contended that you, my first book, I read so thoroughly that even today I can tell on which page we shared our first sunset.
