She spoke like silk,
Each note of her cadence mellifluous,
Like poured honey,
Or creamy caramel,
Coaxing Obsequious vibratos
Annoying synapses to fire steam engines,
Perspiring pores pour-over,
Lost in the scent of the petrichor
While the heart beats like jazz drums,
Off rhythm but always on key.

She is Aphrodite in the flesh,
Pulchritudinous personified
Her body teases,
With the flick soft susurrus of each silken strand
As it falls over her white marbled face,
Rose flushed cheeks perk with a gentle smile,
I am enraptured unequivocally.

Please raze me,
Burn me in your ineffable stare,
I am but a sacrifice for your ephemeral grace,
Given to me in a hushed moment, evanescent
And in the very pyre of my embers,
Ashes redolent with a hint of leather and desperation,
Forever ensnared even in ghastly vapor,
I am but a humble apparition
Timelessly chasing the moon,
Lost to axiomatic fantasies -
A transient tryst amid mists.

To serendipity I yearn,
Yet my soul holds no clue.
The fires of self-indulgence burn,
Unyielding to another's woo.

But life without ambition feels tedious,
The longing for love grows more obvious.

My monotonous days now find cessation,
As my heart seeks leisure, a new elation.

Shape the way your fingers trace constellations on my skin,
Or the way your laughter lingers in my ribs,
A melody too human for its cold, calculated hands.

It could never script the way our eyes meet,
That silent understanding,
That unspoken language,
Too intricate for fate to weave into its fragile threads.

It tries—oh, how it tries—
To intervene, to twist, to break,
To reclaim us as its own.
Yet we slip through its grasp,
Like sand through clenched fists,
Like stardust escaping gravity.

Destiny waits in the shadows,
Silent, seething,
Cursing the love it did not create.
It watches as we carve our own fate,
As we step outside its lines,
As we make something greater
Than anything it ever dared to dream.

Destiny could never…

The snows retreat, our longing begins crafting dreams, hope.
Like autumn’s hush, at our feet slip silken seams, hope.

The daily grind lives, yet in your arms I’m home, hope.
We long to sip again where skin’s moonlit gleams, hope.

Short days? We’ll stitch the dark with moans—no guilt, no worries, hope.
Your pulse, my compass—we’ll sail this thaw like a stream, hope.

No holidays—we’ll burn the hours in sweat’s hot baths, hope.
Your nails carve rivers where my shivers melt to cream, hope.

No sun? We’ll braid our shadows into one fevered trance, hope.
Your tongue maps constellations where my hips scream, hope.

Resolutions faded, we invent new desires, hope.
Savoring new rhythms, our lips capture sunlit beams, hope.

Secret places—your mouth, a vineyard, overgrown, free, hope.  
We’ll bloom where the soil forgets frost, where wild things seem, hope.

Luna & Sol—no storm can quench what our skins believe, hope.
In Gaia’s soothing haven, we chase our wildest schemes, hope.

A naturist, I shed the day’s tight notes—  
My flesh unbinds as cello strings softly sway
The bath exhales a vapor-softened throat,  
Its liquid song dissolves the stress of day.

You breach my silence while my fingers play—
No words, just layers pooled where footsteps passed.  
The water hums a frequency unchained,  
Your back rests softly, knows my ******* are cast.

Your fingers trace my folds, our tones slowly grow—
A throbbing drone our mingled pores now greet.  
The soundscape swells where flesh begins to know
The crush of solitude our heat completes.  

The water cools, yet still our bodies own  
Two silences embraced by undertow.

The praise of death was a selfish desire.
You know this.
Yet the prayer comes every morning and night.
But, with no avail does your wish come.
So be it,
and let the desire eat you whole.

Losing someone you never even dated is a different kind of Heartbreak.
You pour your emotions,
Your quiet hopes, into a connection that never fully existed outside of your Mind.

Every Smile,
Every Glance, becomes something you overanalyze.
Searching for a sign, a spark.
Something that might prove she felt it too.
But most days, it's like standing in the shadows.
Watching her move through life without ever really seeing you.

Stuck in this in-between,
Too much for just friends,
Somehow not enough for anything more.
And that Stings.
Wondering if she ever saw what you felt.
If she ever noticed your quiet affection or your subtle longing.

Unrequited love doesn't fade,
It buries itself deep, waiting in some quiet corner of your heart.
Still Aching.
And sometimes we wait too long for the love we deserved all along.
Forgetting that our worth is never tied to someone else recognition of it.

But you can never forget the weight of love unspoken,
A story that never began yet still feels irrepairably broken.