Published: August 21st 2025, 3:30:58 pm
I poured myself a glass of red wine tonight π·π. It dripped against my lips, a little spill catching the corner of my mouth, and instead of wiping it away I let it sit there. The colour was so close to lipstick, but softer, messier, more tempting.
The funny thing about wine is how it makes everything slower. My movements, my thoughts, even the way I tilt my head to look at my own reflection in the glass. Every little detail becomes exaggerated, every second feels stretched.
Itβs dangerous in the best way β like it wants you to make mistakes, but beautiful ones.
Maybe Iβll let the stain stay, just so you can taste it later π€π₯.