In the quiet chambers of solitude, echoes of emptiness reverberate, consuming the essence of my being.

Loneliness, a relentless, insatiable hunger, gnaws at the edges of my soul, devouring the warmth that once resided within.

Each moment stretches into an eternity, as isolation becomes a voracious force, feeding on the echoes of laughter that have long faded away.

The silence, a relentless feast for the shadows of despair, leaves me hollow, a mere echo of the vibrant spirit I once knew.


In this desolate landscape, not a glimmer of resilience persists, as I attempt to navigate through  the labyrinth of my solitude, seeking the elusive dawn that promises to dispel the darkness within.

My lovelorn heart is full of passion after sharing time with you.

I want to dress you in sensuous  words of love & disrobe you with dancing fingers of passion.

Every contour of your face is etched in lines of love on my bursting heart.
Waiting to be translated in kisses should you allow.

The nape of your neck invites my attention
Her jewellery embellishes its kissability and tantisizes my fantasies.

I hang on  every word...
Watching, ****** like as your tongue  and lips form words.


Your spell upon me was cast millennium ago but I never knew it
I feel it coursing through my veins
Like a embalming drug, chilling​ me to my marrow with desire

She is my addiction and I'll never have enough....

After a great love,
a shadow takes its place,
a weight that feels like the absence of wings,
dragging through the ashes of what was bright.

The heart, once a cathedral,
now echoes with silence,
the stained-glass shards of memory
cutting wherever they fall.

Where hands once entwined,
there are fists clenched tight.
Where whispers melted barriers,
walls rise higher, brick by brick,
mortared by bitter words
and unsent letters.

Hate does not come softly—
it storms in, loud and demanding,
dressed in the armour of betrayal,
holding the mirror of every moment
that makes us vulnerable.

It feeds on the spaces
left by tenderness,
on the cracks that love couldn’t fill,
on the questions that will never
find an answer.

And yet, beneath the rage,
beneath the sharp, unyielding edges,
a quiet truth remains:
We only hate so fiercely
because once,
We loved that much.

My days of laughter have slipped away, like sunlight caught in a wave, bright for a moment then lost to the deep.

Once, joy was found  in every corner—a child’s secret smile, the pulse of music in crowded rooms, the thrill of chasing a breeze through open windows.
Holidays,trips to the seaside long since past.

Now, the echoes are faint, hollow notes where melodies once sang. I walk through the same streets, the same rooms, but the colours have dimmed, the voices have softened.

The fun, the careless abandon, the rush of forgetting the weight of the world—they have packed up quietly, leaving only the stillness, the memories, and longing.

Now I wait in this quiet longing,wondering if the light might return, or if I must learn to dance with the shadows of memory instead.

If I could write a song for her , it would be a serenade to the beauty found in the simple magic she  brings.

Do you know how beautiful I think you are?
Your presence illuminates the room, a radiance that transcends mere physicality.

It's in the way you carry yourself,
the warmth in your smile,
the kindness that shines through your eyes.

To me, your beauty is an exquisite blend of grace and spirit, an essence that leaves an indelible mark on my soul.

In her presence, joy unfurls like petals, each moment a verse of happiness.
Her laughter, a melody that orchestrates a symphony of delight, painting my world in hues of contentment.

Do you know,
when the air stills between us, I leave it heavy with unsaid things?
That every pause in our conversation is a breath I hold
to keep from spilling the truth I carry like a fragile glass?

I wonder if you see it, the way I turn phrases too carefully,
as if each word might accidentally confess.
If you notice the silence that blooms in the spaces where I long to place your name,
or the way I linger on your laughter
as though it were a song I’m afraid to lose.

There’s a gravity to this quiet.
It pulls me closer to you, yet I hold my distance,
hoping you might look back and see it—
the shadow of my love, standing patiently beside me,
aching for you to recognize it.

Do you know?
When I look at you,
I’m writing love letters in my mind,
every glance a line, every smile a verse,
every heartbeat screaming its question into the void:

Can you hear me?

Its the way she looks into my eyes....
Standing there she talks to the three of us staring into my eyes...
Through me, into my soul,
Radiation, that burns the chambers of my aching heart...
Burning away any doubts I had of her feelings & sending me once again tumbling into an oblivion of passion.
And then she’s gone!
Her trap has sprung!
Once more she has me trapped in her web of longing...
Woven and
Hooked on loves longing.

I long to shower her with countless expressions of love,
yet I find myself unable to.
My heart is overflowing with feelings that I wish to convey,
but the words seem to escape me,
leaving my affection unspoken,
my emotions restrained
And my heart a broken mess.

In the cosmic ballet, we would reign my queen of celestial grace and I.
Through stardust  dreams, we'd soar, weaving constellations into our paradise, where love is the eternal North Star guiding our celestial journey.
Forever.

An unrequited love dies not in a dramatic flourish, but in a quiet, almost imperceptible fade.
It begins with hope—a hope that stubbornly refuses to surrender, that clings to every smile, every kind word, as though these fragile moments might somehow bloom into something more.

But time, with its relentless passage, wears away at this hope, turning it brittle and fragile, until it cracks under the weight of reality.

The heart, once aflame with the fire of longing, begins to cool. The dreams that once filled the mind with vivid, aching desire grow dim and distant, like stars fading into the dawn.

The object of affection remains unchanged, oblivious, perhaps, or simply indifferent. Their presence, once electrifying, now brings a quiet resignation, a dull ache rather than the sharp pain of unmet desire.

There is no single moment when unrequited love dies. It is a slow unraveling, a gentle loosening of the bonds that once held the heart captive. The day comes when the heart no longer leaps at the sight of them, when their voice no longer echoes in the chambers of your mind. And in this stillness, you realize that what once was, what could never be, has finally been laid to rest.

Unrequited love dies with a whisper, not a cry. It leaves behind not a gaping wound, but a faint scar, a quiet memory of a longing that once was. It fades into the background, becoming just another story in the long narrative of the heart, a tale of what might have been, had the stars aligned differently.

And though it fades, it leaves a mark—a reminder of the beauty and the pain of loving in vain.

Her messages arrive like whispers in the night, brief, delicate threads of connection. Each word she sends is a pulse of light in the darkness, a soft caress across the distance that separates us. I hold them close, these digital echoes of her presence, reading them over and over until they fade from the screen like footprints washed away by the tide.

She is my secret love, a phantom who slips through the cracks of my day, leaving traces of herself in fleeting glimpses—an ellipsis here, a hesitant word there. I watch them vanish, these messages that disappear as quickly as they come, and I am left with only the ghost of her in my mind. My heart aches with each one that slips away, knowing I can never hold on to her for long, knowing that she exists in a space between moments, just out of reach.

Still, I cherish the silence she leaves behind, the space where her words once were. It is there, in that absence, that I feel her most deeply, her presence haunting the edges of my thoughts. I replay our brief exchanges like a favorite song, each note resonating in the quiet places of my heart. And though her texts may disappear, she remains with me, a secret I keep in the shadows, a love that lingers in the spaces between the words left unsaid.

In the quiet corridors of my thoughts, a question echoes: Does she feel the symphony of emotions I compose for her?

Like a curious wanderer in the labyrinth of uncertainty, I wander the shadows of doubt, seeking clues in the music of her words and the brushstrokes of her actions.

Do my sentiments resonate in her heart as profoundly as hers do in mine? A silent inquiry lingers, weaving through the tapestry of our connection, waiting for the echoes of her response in the corridors of my introspection.

In moonlit dreams, Ann's beauty unfolds, a cascade of ethereal grace.
Silken tides of her presence pull me into the depths, where every glance becomes an ocean, and each smile, a sunken treasure.
As I drown in the sea of her allure,
breathless whispers of admiration linger,
lost in the current of her enchantment.

In shadows cast by a silent moon, loneliness weaves its subtle tapestry.

Isolation, a heavy cloak, drapes my soul in echoes of unheard whispers.

A solitary heart, a lighthouse in a sea of empty echoes, yearns for connection in the vast expanse of solitude.

A moonlit dance of emotions unfolds,
an intimate waltz with the echoes of one's own existence,
seeking solace in the profound embrace of isolation's melancholy.

In the vast expanse of solitude, emotions echo in the empty chambers of one’s heart. Loneliness, not just a physical state, but a poignant landscape where the soul navigates its own quiet terrain. A silent companion, emotional loneliness wraps its arms around the spirit, casting shadows that dance with the echoes of unshared sentiments. In the absence of connection, the heart becomes a solitary wanderer, exploring the depths of its own complexities, yearning for the resonance of understanding in the quietude of emotional isolation.

You are in every line, every breath between words. I write you into the spaces, where silence becomes the shape of your name.

My hand moves to trace your form in ink, like it’s always known your rhythm, your pulse, the soft curve of your thoughts. I wasn’t a poet until you—until you made me one, made every phrase tremble with the weight of you.

You live in the verses I never knew how to speak. You became the muse I couldn't refuse, the only one who bends my words into something more, something alive, something that belongs to you. Now, every page waits for you, breathless.

In the quiet hush of night, where the world slips into dreams, I whisper softly, "Good night and sweet dreams, my secret lover."

The moonlight dances through the window, casting silver threads upon my fantasies. Though we are apart, in the realm of dreams, we are bound by invisible strings, delicate yet unbreakable.

Your presence lingers in the shadows, a silent guardian of my sleep, and in the tapestry of my dreams, you are the vivid hues, the whispered promises, the touch that lingers like a haunting melody.

The stars above bear witness to my unspoken vows, each twinkle a heartbeat in the symphony of our clandestine love.

As the night deepens, my thoughts are wrapped in the warmth of your imagined embrace. The world outside fades, leaving only the echo of your name in my heart, a secret shared with the darkness.

Sleep tight, my hidden passion, until the dawn brings us back to reality.
Until then, in the sanctuary of sleep, my love is no longer clandestine .
Good night and sweet dreams, my secret lover.

In the quiet corners of my heart, a tempest brews.
I watch her from a distance, my love cloaked in shadows, as her laughter mingles with another's.

Each smile she shares, a dagger that twists deeper.
I ache in silence, my love unspoken, as she weaves dreams with someone else.

The weight of my secret pulls me under, and every glance, every touch she bestows on them is a wound that refuses to heal.

Yet, amidst the pain, I cherish the stolen moments, where my love for you exists, even if only in the solitude of my soul.

In the quiet echoes of shared moments, I believed I held a place in her heart, a sanctuary of understanding.

Yet, as the pages of our story turned, I discovered the bitter truth – a heartbreak that whispered in the silence of unspoken words.

The weight of unmet expectations settled in my chest, a poignant ache that danced with the shadows of what could have been.

In the wreckage of shattered illusions, I navigate the debris of emotions, searching for solace in the fragments of a connection that slipped through my fingers like sand.

In the quiet chambers of my soul, a fervent flame dances, fueled by the whispered winds of her name.

Each heartbeat echoes the symphony of my longing, an inferno ignited by the tender spark of her presence.

Embers of passion glow in the verses of my soul's prose,
a timeless poem etched in the language of devotion,
burning brightly with the intensity of a thousand suns.

In the hush of twilight's embrace, she moves with a grace that captivates the very essence of allure.
Her eyes, pools of liquid midnight, draw you into a realm where time stands still, where every glance is a whispered promise of enchantment.

With each step, she weaves a symphony of seduction, her laughter a melody that dances upon the air, leaving hearts intoxicated with desire.
She is a tempest of beauty, a tempest that ignites flames of longing in every soul fortunate enough to cross her path.

In her presence, the world holds its breath, for she is more than just a woman; she is a goddess of sensuality, a muse of passion, an embodiment of timeless sexuality.

I love you in ways I can barely speak, in whispers too fragile for the world to hear. My love for you is a quiet storm, a force that rages within me, tearing at the seams of my soul. I can’t live without you—this truth pounds in my chest like a second heartbeat, a rhythm that I can’t escape. Every moment without you is a shadow, a hollow ache that gnaws at the edges of my being.

I see you slipping away, like sand through my fingers, and I am helpless to stop it. The thought of losing you—of you being lost to me forever—fills me with a sorrow so deep it feels like drowning. I love you with a desperation that scares me, with a need so fierce it burns. I cannot imagine a world where you are not, where your voice doesn’t soften the hard edges of my days, where your presence doesn’t anchor me in this chaotic sea.

Without you, I am adrift, untethered. The thought of you gone rips the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping in a world suddenly too vast, too empty. I love you, and I can’t live without you. These words feel too small, too fragile, to hold the weight of what I feel, of what it means to love you and face the possibility of losing you.

But still, I say them, hoping somehow you’ll hear, hoping they’ll reach you wherever you are, and pull you back to me. Because without you, I am nothing but a hollow echo of what could have been, a shadow chasing after a light that’s fading fast. I love you, and I can’t live without you. This truth is my only certainty, even as I watch you slip further away.

I will  love her in ways people only dream of being loved
I will  lift her up, make you mine, and make her nothing but happy.
I will to kiss her from head to toe, until my lips hurt.
I will to undress her, lay her  down, and hold her until every bad thought she has  in that beautiful mind of hers dissipates.
Then I want to make love until the sun comes up, and fall asleep intertwined in her arms and in her  soul.

In the quiet moments between breaths, your presence lingers like the last light of dusk, unwavering and eternal.
I find you in the spaces between my thoughts, where silence speaks your name. Every morning brings a whisper of your laughter, echoing through the corridors of my mind, a melody that never fades
.

You are the ink in my pen, the pause in my sigh, the softness in my dreams.
I carry you with me, a constant companion in the vast expanse of my solitude.
Your essence weaves through my day, a gentle reminder that some connections defy the boundaries of time and space.


Even in the busiest of hours, when the world demands all of me, a fragment of my heart remains tethered to you.
I will never not think of you, for you are woven into the fabric of my being, a permanent imprint on my soul.


In every heartbeat, in every breath, in every fleeting moment, you are there—an indelible mark, an everlasting thought, a beautiful constant in the ever-changing tapestry of my life.

I will wait in the slow, hushed hours that drain colour from the sky, knowing the shade won’t brighten again for me but not tonight.

I will wait, though every shadow around me murmurs of your absence, though each heartbeat  drums the rhythm of  truth I’ve heard a thousand times.
You are not coming, not through the autumnal mist, not in the breath of the breeze or the star’s nocturnal quiet watch.
Still I will wait,

I will wait, a promise kept only to myself, a vow unspoken but alive in the chambers of my heart.  I will wait, even as I feel the night lean in close, weaving soft threads of solitude through the silence, as if to remind me that this waiting is mine alone.

For in some dim way, I find company in it; the tender ache that speaks to the memory of what I hoped, of what I dared believe, against all reason, against all proof.

I know you will not come, and yet here I remain.
Here, beneath the silent weight of the grey sky, beneath the patient, unmoving stars, I will wait for you.

And in this waiting, I hold to a flickering truth: that even in your absence, I am somehow more complete for having waited; if only for a shadow, if only for the echo of a dream.

I need to kiss you like the sky needs the sun to break the endless night, like the sea craves the moon to guide its restless tides.

My lips ache with a hunger only your breath can fill, a longing as ancient as the first whispered word between two souls. Every inch of space between us feels like a desert, where I wander lost and parched, searching for the oasis of your mouth.

I need to kiss you as if the air is too thin without it, as if time itself would stop unless I press my heart into yours through that soft collision.

The world could stand still, crumble, or fade away, but nothing matters as much as the simple truth of my life:
I need to kiss you.
Desperately.
Now.
Again.
Forever.

Her voice, a blade wrapped in velvet sighs,  
Cutting through the softest parts of me.  
Each word, a storm behind her once loving eyes
Unveiling skies where sunlight dared not be.  

She mocks my pain , twists every grimace ,  
A dance of words with poison on her tongue.  
I, the puppet, trapped in misery,  
While she, untouched, from icy towers sung.  

How cold her gaze, how sharp her gentle scorn,  
I stand as ash, where once a flame was born.

She  has ignited a fire in my heart
That previously was a smouldering ember, barely alight
She has sparked a fire that consumes,flares and roars when ever I say her name or think of her

Her laughter fans the blaze
A smile that chars my soul
Fingertips leave stigmata upon my skin and kisses scald my lovelorn heart.
This fire is out of control, love it’s fuel
And my passion it’s heat.

Silent echoes of unspoken words reverberate within my head, a symphony of sentiments confined to the chambers of my heart.

In the garden of emotions, my love blossoms like a delicate flower, yet the petals remain veiled in the shadows of secrecy.

A broken heart weaves a tapestry of unspoken longing, each thread a whisper of the words I dare not utter to her.

In the quiet corridors of my soul, the weight of unshared feelings casts a poignant shadow,
a silent requiem for a love unspoken.

I guess I wasn’t handsome enough for you to love me. My reflection is a shadow in a glass that never quite catches the light.

I watched your eyes wander to places my face could never take you, to smiles that curved in ways mine could not.

I felt the distance grow in the spaces between words, in the pauses where your voice should have lingered. My hands, once steady, now tremble under the weight of knowing that beauty wasn’t carved into my skin, that no angle of my jawline could ever turn your gaze to me.

I guess my laugh wasn’t enough to echo in your thoughts, nor my touch enough to warm the cold in your heart. The mirror whispers it every time I dare to look: not enough, never enough.

So, I’ll step back into the background, let my love fade like a forgotten sunset, knowing that your eyes seek a horizon I was never part of.

My loneliness is a room where the walls breathe with the echoes of my silence, where shadows stretch long like the hours of an endless night. It is the space between words, a pause that holds more than speech can carry.

The world outside hums with life, a distant melody I can’t quite grasp, as if I'm watching a film with the sound turned down. Faces blur by like passing clouds, their laughter drifting like smoke, intangible, fading before it reaches me.

In this stillness, I hear my heartbeat, a quiet drum that pulses with the rhythm of a solitary existence. Time moves differently here, slow and syrupy, with minutes that drip like honey, sweet with a sadness only I can taste.

The air is thick with the weight of unsaid thoughts, words I swallow before they form, fearing they might break the fragile quiet of this place.

My loneliness is a garden where nothing blooms, where the earth is dry, and roots search in vain for nourishment. Yet, in the barren soil, I plant seeds of longing, tend them with tears, and hope, perhaps foolishly, for something to grow. It is both a sanctuary and a prison, a place where I am left with only myself, to unravel the threads of who I am and who I might become.

And though it aches, this loneliness, it also comforts in its familiarity. It wraps around me like a well-worn blanket, frayed at the edges but warm enough to keep out the cold. Here, in this quiet, I am alone, but not lost. I am empty, but still here, still waiting for the day when this emptiness might finally be filled.

Amidst the ache of unrequited love, my heart still finds solace in the beauty of our connection, even if it remains one-sided. I'll cherish the moments we shared, even if they were fleeting, for they brought warmth to my soul and left an indelible mark on my heart.

In moonlit grace, a feline ballet unfolds,
Whiskers whisper secrets, tales untold.
Purring symphony, a lullaby's embrace,
Ode to a cat, in fur and mystery's trace.

In the quiet shadows of shared glances and unspoken words, our emotional affair unfolds like verses woven into the fabric of clandestine emotions.

A dance of feelings painted in hues of secrecy, where the lines blurred between what was said and what lingered in the unsaid.

Each stolen moment a stanza etched in the margins of our lives, a prose poem of longing and connection, composed in the delicate syntax of stolen time.