𖥸 ©Magnolia 2026. Original composition by 𓂃☽ Magnolia ☾𓂃 All rights reserved 𖥸 ⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆ The room had no doctrine, only the smell of grapes warmed by quiet hands. I thought: I could leave now. But the thought didn’t move my feet. Your fingers hovered near the cup, not touching — and that was already too much. Time leaned in. My ribs argued in secret. There was a rule I meant to keep. I did not keep it. 🎶 If the wine was meant for saints, why did it taste like choosing? 🎶 I should have spoken. I didn’t. I let the cup tilt just enough to stain my lower lip. You watched. It was almost unkind. No covenant was written. Still, something was owed
