You think you’re weak,
but I stand in awe of your strength—
how you hold your circle together,
the quiet glue that keeps them steady.

I love being the calm in your storm,
the shoulder you trust,
where you lay your weary head,
my shirt catching the tears you won’t let fall.

I see the soul you’ve grown into—
the one you once looked up to,
the parent who leads with love,
the heart everyone turns toward.

So now, take your rest with me.
Let me hold what you’ve carried too long.
Lean into my arms and be unburdened—
I’m here to lift your worries away,
forever and always.

Waiting for connection,
my heart stumbles in its rhythm,
aching for the soft glow of your words,
a message that never comes soon enough.

Hollow hours stretch wide,
since last I held you close—
your breath warm against my lips,
our mouths joined in a tender hush.

Ours is no ordinary love.
Not a spark that burns and fades,
but a steady flame, unseen by most,
a bond beyond flesh—
two souls tracing the same path.

Through storms and silence,
we have stood as each other’s anchor,
rock against rock,
holding the weight of the world together,
keeping each other whole.

Still, I wait—
not with despair,
but with quiet faith,
knowing the distance bends,
but never breaks,
what was written for us.

I remember the pain—
knowing that you spoke lies,
controlled me with fear,
told others of your sins
while painting me as the villain.

You broke me
over and over and over.
I flinch at hugs.
I cry with loss—
loss of my heart.

You broke me.
I am barely a person,
shaped by the pain you caused.
I nearly took that final step

because you needed control,
needed to lash out, to hurt me.
You told others it was me—
that I caused the pain you inflicted.

You paint yourself as a victim.
I barely survived.
You continue your actions,
wallowing in false sympathy.

I bare my pain
through my poems.

I am a key, broken,
with no lock that fits me.

I lay at night with no one to hold.
I am missing that one touch.
Am I just too much—
too much, too little, too broken?

I am a broken key,
with no lock that fits me.

I lay at night, all alone.
I have so much love in my life,
but I miss that one vital part—
that element, that touch.

I feel so broken, so lost.
Am I so unlovable
that no one wants me?
Many loves,
but I am not
anyone’s special one.

I am a broken key,
with no lock that fits me.

Two women, brought together by chance.

One woman burns with passion,
a flame fierce and unapologetic.
One woman burns with shame,
a quiet blaze hidden beneath her skin.

Together they are bound—
by circumstance,
by choice,
by the gravity of unseen threads.

One woman’s shame becomes another’s sin,
sins embraced with open hands,
taken on happily,
like burdens transformed into gifts.

One rescues,
steady and relentless,
pushing back the darkness.
One grieves,
carrying silence and sorrow
like sacred talismans.

One heals other souls—
with words, with warmth,
with the promise of understanding.
One heals other domiciles—
mending walls,
restoring spaces
where weary hearts might rest.

Two women, brought together by chance—
woven together by fate,
each the echo
and the answer
of the other’s call.

Two separate bodies,
one shared soul.

Three thousand years of history,
etched into scars and stories,
too many battles to count—
steel meeting steel,
hearts clashing
then cleaving together again.

Unparalleled warriors,
shaped by war, softened by love,
brought together by fate,
staying together by choice.

Empires have risen and fallen
around them.
Gods have whispered their names,
and stars have borne witness
to the quiet vow between them:
to fight side by side,
to live, to fall,
to rise again.

Two bodies,
one soul—
forever bound,
forever burning.

Shadows paint your body
like smoke across the night,
soft and sinuous, slipping
through my fingers when I reach.

Muscles etched in shifting light—
each dip, each rise ignites my pulse.
A single breath between us
feels as wide as oceans,
and still, I drown in you.

That little smirk upon your mouth…
you know exactly what this view does,
the knowing glint in your eyes
drinking in how every gaze
traces you, reverent and hungry—

from hip flexors to sculpted abs,
over the sharp plane of your ribs,
down to the places shadows cling,
where mystery gathers,
and my wonder grows.