Cross-legged on our threadbare rug,
Dark curls cascading like night's curtain,
You paint your stories onto fingertips
In deep wine-red confessions.
I've never seen anything more beautiful
Than this 'ordinary' Tuesday evening.

Your denim-clad knees and focused gaze,
The silver bracelet catching light
As you steady your hand, precise as time,
Spreading colours like secrets
Across each nail's empty canvas.
I wonder if...