Is our love a fragile flame,
made only for the dark—
or rebellion wrapped in silk,
two wild hearts leaving marks?
Tell me—
is it sin
to feel this much,
to burn so near
the edge of touch?
If walls divide
and names condemn,
why does your pulse
still answer mine
again?
3d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 7:44 AM UTC
Is our love a fragile flame,
made only for the dark—
or rebellion wrapped in silk,
two wild hearts leaving marks?
Tell me—
is it sin
to feel this much,
to burn so near
the edge of touch?
If walls divide
and names condemn,
why does your pulse
still answer mine
again?
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