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"Some kisses are less about lips touching,
and more about two souls finally recognizing each other in the dark."
Dear Diary,
Tonight felt like something I would've imagined —
except it was real.
He surprised me.
Said, "Dress warm. Trust me."
So I wore my favorite sweater —
the oversized one that smells like lavender and poems.
He met me at my gate,
holding a tiny paper bag with two cinnamon buns inside.
Still warm.
We walked through the old orchard,
but this time we didn't stop at the clearing.
We kept going —
down a narrow path I didn't even know existed,
until we reached the lake.
And there —
floating on the water,
soft and flickering,
were lanterns.
Dozens of them.
He'd made them from jars and string lights and soft paper wishes.
Each one had something written on it.
A line from a poem.
A dream he'd had.
A memory of me.
I stood there breathless —
the kind of silence that feels like a heart trying to memorize a moment.
He looked at me and said,
"Every time you tell me a story, it feels like this —
like light finding its way into the dark."
And then he reached into his coat
and pulled out a blank lantern.
"This one's yours," he said.
"Write what you're most afraid to say out loud."
So I wrote:
"I'm falling for you.
But I don't know how to land without breaking."
I didn't look at him when I handed it over.
Didn't breathe until I felt his hand brush mine.
"I'll fall with you," he said.
"And if you break, I'll hold the pieces like treasure."
Then — finally —
slowly, like the world paused just for us,
he kissed me.
It wasn't perfect.
Our noses bumped.
My hands trembled.
His breath caught.
But it was real.
It was soft.
And it tasted like cinnamon and stars and safety.
Afterward, we didn't say much.
We just lay on the dock, watching the lanterns float.
Two lights among many.
Two hearts finally resting in the same rhythm.
Tonight didn't feel like a dream.
It felt better.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 🌌💋🕯️
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