Ever catch the soft drift of someone’s breath against you and feel the whole world tilt into place? That’s me with him—his exhales weave through my days like threads of gold, stitching happiness into every corner of my soul. I’m here to spill it all in a laid-back, poetic ramble, like we’re just two friends swapping secrets over a flickering candle.
We collided years back on some ordinary night. He fumbled his drink, splashing me with a laugh that hooked me deep, and soon enough, we were tangled in each other’s orbits. Those first days blurred into something steady, something I’d fight to keep. Now, his breath—soft, alive—holds me captive, a quiet song I never tire of hearing.
First Gusts of His Soul
Evenings settle, and we sprawl together, limbs a lazy knot after hours apart. His head rests near my heart, breath a warm tide washing over me, and I swear the air turns sweet with it. Bliss unfurls slow and sure, a bloom I didn’t know could grow so wild. His nearness sings to me, a melody carved in whispers.
Early on, I felt it creep in. We’d lie close, words tumbling out about nothing—old songs, tomorrow’s plans—and his exhales would graze my skin like a breeze through reeds. Time stilled, and I’d linger there, caught in the gentle rise and fall. Every puff bound me tighter, a tether I’d never shake loose.
He doesn’t notice how it lands. That’s the spell—those fleeting, unguarded breaths hit me deepest when he’s lost in thought. I’ll grin, foolish and full, tracing the rhythm of him. Love hides in those soft waves, a secret hum that lifts me skyward.
Night’s Quiet Symphony
Shadows stretch long, and we burrow beneath quilts, the chaos of day locked out. His breath brushes my shoulder, a steady pulse that turns silence into verse, and I’m swept into peace. Happiness glows faint but fierce, lit by the cadence of his lungs. Closeness wraps us tight, a cocoon spun from air alone.
Sleep eludes me some nights. I lie awake, ears tuned to his soft inhales, exhales painting the dark with life. He’ll murmur, voice rough with dreams, and that breath feathers my ear like a sigh from the stars. I’d trade eternities to stay there, cradled by his quiet tide.
Dreams shift his rhythm. Quick flutters when his mind races, or deep, slow drifts when he’s sunk heavy into rest—I feel them all. My own chest mirrors his without thought, two beats folding into one. That harmony, that unspoken dance, holds my truest delight.
Dawn’s Gentle Echoes
Mornings unfold slow with him near. He shuffles close, lips brushing my cheek, and his breath spills warm and alive across my face. Laughter bubbles up because it’s wild—how such a small thing sets my spirit ablaze. Daylight softens under his spell, a glow I carry through the hours.
Lazy days stretch wide and free. We perch outside, him cradling tea, me lost in the curl of his exhales against the breeze. Cold air catches them, turning breath to fleeting mist, and I yearn to hold each one. His voice hums low, and I feel it ripple over me, a dawn all my own.
He’ll spin tales of reckless whims—mending something broken, chasing a fleeting dream—and I nod, half-drifting. Really, I’m caught in that subtle lift of his chest, the way it stirs the air between us. I need nothing beyond that pulse. Love roots itself in those tender gusts.
When All Else Dissolves
Days turn jagged—noise builds, burdens press, life snarls at the edges. He draws me in, breath a lifeline spilling over my skin, and the clamor fades to dust. Calm seeps through me, raw and real, anchored by his steady flow. His presence washes the world clean, leaving only us.
Tempests find us too. Once, darkness swallowed the lights, and we huddled near candles, his breath a warm thread along my jaw. He whispered nonsense, and I felt it—each exhale a shield against the storm. Untouchable, I floated there, held by the heat of him.
He senses my unravelling. I’ll hush, and he’ll press his forehead to mine, exhales stitching me back together. That quiet strength, that unspoken vow—it steadies me. I’d hoard that feeling, a treasure no vault could hold.
Heat That Binds Us
Summer hums thick, and we lie close, sweat-slick but unwilling to part. His breath dances hot across my arm, a spark that sets my blood alight, and I’m lost in the thrill of it. Happiness floods, fierce and full, a river breaking free. His warmth pours into me, a gift I’ll never tire of.
Play turns wild sometimes, and we tumble, breathless with laughter. He’ll trap me beneath him, victorious, his quick puffs grazing my face like sparks from a fire. I yield just to feel them linger, to stay caught in that blaze. Every beat thrums with him, a rhythm I crave.
Stillness carries its own fire. He’ll trace my hand, breath soft against my knuckles, and I dissolve into the glow. That heat, that life—it’s mine to claim. Nothing else calls when he’s this close.
Why His Breath Holds Me
Folks might smirk, but his breath roots me firm. Something in its drift—its weight, its whisper—tells me I’ve found my shore. Love carves itself into every gust, and I’m lifted higher than I’ve ever flown. He’s my compass, my calm, my everything.
Imperfections don’t dim it—he steals the sheets, mutters half-dreams in the dark. Still, I’d take every uneven sigh, every sleepy breath, because they’re his. I feel them, and home settles deep in my bones. That’s the poetry I live for, etched in our tangled days.
I keep him near for it. He’ll jest when I tug him close, but I need that cadence, that proof he’s flesh and fire. His laughter spills, breath brushing my cheek, and I’m undone again. No one else could ever rival that pull.
Closing the Verse
So here we are—his breath, my bliss, a love spun into stanzas I’ll never stop writing. I could weave words forever about how those soft exhales turn my world to light. We’re just us, breathing through it all, and I’d hold every second tight. Stick around, and I’ll share more over a drink sometime.
Drop by when you’re free. We’ll lounge, trade stories, and you’ll feel it—the way his presence fills the air. Bring something to munch; he’s a shameless snack thief.