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Cadmus 1h
There’s something about the way he doesn’t chase…

It’s not the swagger. Not the smirk.
Not the way his shirt clings when he works.
It’s how he doesn’t beg the light
he walks in shadow, and still feels right.

He doesn’t claim me. He just looks
and in that look, he rewrites books.
The kind with knights and velvet beds,
with whispered vows and tangled threads.

He moves like time forgot to rush.
His silence holds a speaking hush.
He doesn’t grab he lets me choose,
And yet I burn if I refuse.

His hands could bruise, but never try.
They trace my skin like lullaby.
He guards, not cages. Leads, not binds
And in his arms, the world unwinds.

He calls me wild. He keeps me free.
He doesn’t need to conquer me.
And still, I’d kneel, I’d bend, I’d melt,
For how his quiet power’s felt.

There’s chivalry in how he waits,
In how he touches no locked gates.
And when he moves, it’s not to own,
But to remind me, I’m not alone.

So here’s to him: the kind of man
Who doesn’t boast, but simply can.
Who wins no throne, but takes command
Just by the way he dares to stand.
This isn’t about dominance, It’s about admiration -  for the quiet, unshakable essence of a man who doesn’t need to chase, prove, or perform.
The kind who holds his ground with grace.
Who protects without control, leads without ego, and commands without noise.
This is for him - the man whose strength is in how he stands.
Cadmus Jun 22
☔️

The depressed one is not sick,
nor broken,
nor lost to some disorder.

He simply saw the world,
its truths laid bare,
its people unmasked,
and found no beauty
in the ruin beneath.

It wasn’t madness that took him,
but clarity.

And the weight
of so much ugliness
he could not unsee.

☔️
Sometimes, what breaks a person is not confusion, but understanding.
Cadmus Jun 22
☕️

A man keeps to himself
most of his:
disappointments,
sorrow,
despair,
bitterness,
and his tragedies.

Then one day, he explodes,
If his coffee cup slips from his hand.

☕️
It’s rarely the last thing that breaks us.
It’s everything that came before it.
Cadmus Jun 22
🖤

Like a child running to his mother in tears,
seeking warmth in her arms,
only to be silenced with a slap.

That is the ache of being let down,
right where you thought safety lived.

⛓️‍💥
Some wounds don’t bleed , they echo in places we thought were safe.
Cadmus Jun 18
💍

She may walk like fire
and speak like wine,
but her lips
carry the ashes
of another man’s home.

Desire is not worth
the ruin you inherit.
No glory is found
in tasting
a betrayal
you didn’t earn.

🖤
Never sleep with another man’s wife. Some doors are locked for a reason. Kicking them open only brings ghosts.
Cadmus Jun 17
She dreams
of what never was.

No man
can match the shape
she carved in absence.

So she stays
half-settled,
half-burning…

Hurting the one who stayed
for not being
the one
who never came.
Longing, when shaped by fantasy, often becomes a quiet weapon turned inward or toward whoever remains.
Cadmus Jun 17
🎭

What I truly feel
doesn’t survive the telling.

It breaks
on the edge of language…
leaving only
a softened version
for others to understand.

while the real thing
keeps burning quietly
where no words can reach.

🎭
Some truths are not spoken - they are endured in silence.
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