The First Evening of Your Love

 The day you appeared,

life whispered in color —

as if closed doors

had opened for the first time.

Your eyes —

deep, drenched,

a silent monsoon

upon my desert soul.

Your lips —

like rose petals.

And when you smiled,

time… forgot to move.

Your hair —

dark, free, wild,

like night waves

bathed in silver moonlight.

Your walk —

soft, unhurried,

and with each step,

my heart thundered louder.

I, like a madman,

lost myself in you —

in your name,

in your scent,

in the echo of your nearness.

That one look

lit a fire

I kept burning in —

willingly, joyfully,

forevermore.

There was something

in your love —

a spell,

a sweet fever

that never left me.

When you brushed against me

in quiet moments,

my soul would tremble.

My body?

A slave to your touch.

We'd meet in secret,

in corners shaded from the world,

where even leaves

shivered at the sound

of our breath.

The warmth of your skin

against my chest

could change every season

in a single heartbeat.

When you held me close,

all my weariness

dissolved

in the silence of your arms.

And your lips —

when they touched mine,

time stilled,

and breath

melted into breath.

Your kiss —

soft, but wild.

Like rain that doesn't ask,

just falls,

and claims everything.

We stole time

from time itself,

and lived a life

no one else could see.

You weren’t a want —

you were worship.

Not just a dream —

you were the god

my waking soul adored.

Each moment with you

still flows

through my veins.

Each touch,

each ache,

still calls me in my sleep.

With you,

every color sang.

Without you,

the world was soundless.

You were my first love —

my first fire,

my first prayer.

And still,

I love you

just as I did…

that very first time.