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.

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.

Midnight lace, a whispered grace,
A gentle touch, in a tender space.
Love's soft scent, a sweet perfume,
Chasing shadows, lifting gloom.
Hand in hand, true hearts explore,
Leaving soft prints on love's own shore.

Beneath soft silks, a form so fair,
A secret beauty, beyond compare.
A gentle curve, a hidden gleam,
Like a softly waking, lovely dream.
A quiet joy, for loving eyes,
A promise held, beneath soft skies.

Lingerie is more than what lies beneath the dress;
it is the inner spark, the hidden glamour,
the private radiance that makes a woman
feel exquisite in her own skin.

And how should one care for such intimate grace?
Treat each piece with love, in time and space.
As you would tend a fragile bloom,
Or banish from a heart all gloom.
With gentle hands, a soft embrace,
A quiet reverence, time cannot erase.

So let this beauty brightly shine,
A tender joy, a love divine.
Amen.

a path so thin and worn.
The walls close in ahead,
leaving my spirit torn.

The sun shines bright outside,
on fields I cannot roam.
My heart, it cannot hide,
a yearning to call home.

A home that's wide and free,
where I can stretch and grow,
just simply be, just me,
and watch the wild seeds sow.

Soft lines draw me, slow, unchained,
Your hips that call, my hands restrained.
The hollow throat, the ******* that rise,
Full moons that darken eager skies.

Your skin, a canvas, flushed and bare,
I trace its heat through breathless air.
I long to taste, to press, to part,
To lose myself where bodies start.

Your lips, wet fire, parted, near,
Invite my hunger, raw, sincere.
I drown in you, no space, no name,
Two shadows burning into flame.

Upon whose shoulder shall I rest this night,
In winter's chill, with shadows deep and white?
If warmth departs, and comfort takes its flight,
You, only you, can banish winter's blight.

A whispered dream, a solace soft and true,
Held close within your arms, forever new.
You are the haven, where my spirit's hue,
Reflects the world, in colours bright and true.

You, in my heart, a tapestry of grace,
With roses woven, in a tender embrace.
A love entwined, a bond beyond compare,
Where whispered words, and silent moments share,
A world of wonder, filled with love's sweet air.

You staggered through the double doors,
a trail of red on bleached-out floors.
The night was humming, wet and mean,
your busted life in Trauma Green.

I clamped your vein, soft as thread,
and dared the gods to count their dead.
You lay there broken, no ID,
just blood and ache and urgency.

Your heart fell quiet
inside my hand,
as if it paused to understand.
Then breath returned in stuttered moans.
your chest arched up to meet my own.

The wound was sealed.
Your sigh came slow.
You could have left.
You didn’t, though.
The sweat still clung.
Your gaze went slack.
You pulled the gown and turned your back.

I saw you later, checkout nine:
frozen dinners, boxed red wine.
You seemed like someone death forgot,
barely awake, missing the plot.

You looked right through. You didn’t know
the hands that pulled you from below.
You don’t remember. I can’t forget
how thin the stitch, how deep the debt.