The music soft, a gentle hum,
The morning light, just barely come.
Your cheek so warm, against my own,
A quiet peace, a seed is sown.

The music flows, a silver stream,
Reflecting dawn, a waking dream.
Your skin so close, a gentle touch,
Is this too much? I want so much.

The world outside can wait and see,
This perfect place, belongs to me.
The music plays, the sun climbs high,
With you beside me, I could fly.

In the hollow stretch of fading days,  
I reached for shadows, not your touch.  
The aching hours grew long, unkind,  
Beneath the weight, alone, I stood.  

And now you speak of turning back,  
The road eroded, trust dissolved.  
How dim the light you think I see,  
When all was night, and none was you.

Lipstick, kohl, lace-her careful art. Not adornments; they pierce the heart. Velvet sharp, her glow commands.

No man tames what fire demands.

She rises; storms beneath her skin, Burning worlds, rebuilding within.

In her tempest, love must kneel, His surrender learns how flames feel.

I learned his rhythm, step-for-step, To break no bond, to earn respect. Behind, he flees-an untamed ghost, Ahead, he strikes, his guard engrossed.

Beside, we tread the timbered lane, Two hearts entwined in wild refrain. No master, leash, nor tethered guide, Just wolf and I, the woods abide.

Its skin a map of whispered, hidden tales,
A sphere of promise, filled with red delights,
Each seed a heartbeat, cradled in its flesh.
To slice it open is to know the truth
A rush of sweetness spills like tender dreams,
As crimson juice flows freely, a soft tide,
That mirrors love’s first warmth upon the tongue.
In every seed, the dusk of life unfolds,
A gentle womb of quiet, pulsing hope,
Reflecting strength in all its fragile grace,
A ruby treasure, born of light and dark.
So, Lily, cherish what the heart can hold,
For in this fruit, our sweetest fears reside.

come closer.
I won’t waste breath on lullabies.
I’ve gnawed the years,
spat blood and marrow.
If you want the taste,
the true taste,
take it alone.

Drink alone.
Stagger the road alone.
Laugh till your ribs split—alone.
Howl till your lungs tear—alone.
And when sin claws your door,
let it in,
alone.

Alone is the blade.
Alone is the wound.
Alone is the grave.

Guard your fire,
your shame,
your cursed name.
No one carries it for you.
No one shares the dirt.

When the earth shuts its jaw,
it swallows each skull
alone.

They call her stripper here,
but in every city she wears another name
temptress, witch, sinner, saint.
Under the bruised red lights
she moved like smoke,
her fingers dragging over her own skin
as if summoning fire.
Men watched with hunger,
their eyes begging,
but the fool in me
was fixed on hers.
The law was carved into the walls:
watch, do not touch.
Yet she broke distance,
closing in,
her weight pressing on my lap,
perfume like poisoned roses.
She danced,
smiled
a lily of sin blooming in the dark.
Her eyes sparked like razors in the night,
cutting clean through me.
I whispered, hoarse,
“Your eyes are beautiful.”
Her lips bent into something sharp.
“Are you here to watch me tear myself open,
or here to drown in my eyes?”
I told her,
“Your eyes.
Through them, I see your soul.
Through them, I touch your heart.”
Her mouth brushed mine
a kiss like a knife,
soft and lethal.
Then she slipped away,
claiming the next fool.
And I sat there,
bleeding from a kiss
I would never forget.