The silvers of influence
spill from the moon’s palm,
soft over skin warmed
by a beach day’s hush.

Here, paradise breathes —
not loud, but in sighs,
where seafoam curls
around ankle and ache.

Your gaze, dark as onyx,
doesn’t just look —
it lingers.
A smooth promise,
ripe with unspoken tides.

And I —
I unravel,
seduced by salt air
and the weight
of being seen.

🎀  𝒩𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒥𝒶𝓃𝒾  🎀