ALEXANDREI hold her in my arms, and nothing else exists, nothing but the warmth of her skin, the sweet scent of her hair against my face, the feverish pressure of her lips against mine, this kiss that lasts and lasts, like a vine wrapped around my breath, like a thread being rewoven after being torn too harshly.She no longer trembles.I do.Because I’m afraid she’ll slip away from me, once again, any second now, that she’ll pull back, fade away, remember too strongly, doubt, push me away. But no. Her arms wrap around me, her mouth seeks mine like a promise whispered in the dark, and my heart, that rebellious traitor, beats like in the early hours, as if I were becoming that crazy man who loved her to death again.I feel like crying.But I kiss her again.Again, and again, as if to catch up on lost time, the silences, the absences, the mistakes, the wounds. Every heartbeat against her skin is a forgiveness. Every shared sigh, a confession. I don’t know how many minutes pass, maybe an
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