It's subtle, but impossible to ignore;
The way a room changes with your presence.
The way our eyes continually search to steal another quarter second glance - you could say we are both in a trance.
Peering out corners of eyes, just to watch the other.
Nerves that make the body ache, invoking thoughts to make the heart flutter.

In downtime my mind traces lines
around the places I might find
Your existence in my life.

Is it just me, pondering the thought?
Am I the only one with feelings being caught?
Am I scheming again, to find out more, when in reality all is naught?

Mercury climbs our glass spine’s rise—
Warm droplets tremble as nerves under tongue.
We name our barometric ache—enchantment:
each storm seeded where ******* pool salt rain.
Fingers tracing, exploring, deepening pressure systems
through our kiss. The glass hums.
Lightning fills the cloudless sky.

Did you say?
Every word that preyed on your heart today.
Caused your soul delay.
Did you let people know?
When your heart glowed.
Invite joy to linger,
Caress the world with wanting fingers.
Was the world your art?
Admiring the fires of creation,
with elation.
Did you tilt your head back?
Abandon all you lack.
And savor earth's breeze,
in it's whooshing dance with the trees.
Live like a voracious wind gust,
to the fullest lust of ease.
Each newborn breath leaves.

I am Greed, the next
No victory is enough
Only what is ahead
I keep my eyes upright

I am Greed, the obsession  
Men gain strength
I whisper, “more”
Men gain influence
I whisper, “more”
Men gain supremacy
I whisper, “more”
Men gain all
I whisper, “more”

I am Greed, the unavoidable
Unlike every other sin, men need me
Men need to want

I am Greed, the collector
My collection is grander than all others
But I covet only one more thing:
Your soul

Beneath the twilight’s soft embrace,
I wander through dreams of you—
A universe of fire and grace,
Where every star sings a love true.

Your eyes, like distant galaxies aglow,
Illuminate the corridors of my heart,
In every whispered breeze they bestow
A promise that we’ll never be apart.

Your voice, a river of tender notes,
Carries the secrets of the ancient skies,
Where love in every fleeting moment floats,
And time in your eternal presence lies.

In the garden of our shared desire,
Roses bloom with fervent, crimson fire,
Their petals drenched in passion’s refrain,
A symphony of longing, free of pain.

So let our souls entwine in endless flight,
A dance of shadows, light, and fervent grace,
For in this sacred, ever-blazing night,
Our love becomes the cosmos we embrace.

I’m a bit of a sensualist.

First, let me emphasise emotional resonance,
there has to be an emotional base,
not just an appreciation of hotness.

Then, there’s a sense of longing and mystery—
that male unknowableness.

Don’t forget the hard strength of those rough male edges,
you know, the feeling that he’s kind of sculpted from
a marble that you just want to run your hands over.

And this jet-black hair, the curves and the spiky bits,
casual, careless, not fussy or particular,
and his warm, firm, implacable hands.
Oh, God. Gimmie some.

“Sensuality's connected to desire, ya?” I asked the room (Sunny and Lisa are there, studying).
“It sure is,” Sunny said, flippantly, “and you just need that hot boyfriend of yours to spank it out of you.”
“No,” I winced, “that’s not true.”
“Ooo! I love this song” Lisa said, as ‘try’ by BETWEEN FRIENDS began to play on our Echos.
.
.
Songs for this:
this is what falling in love feels like by JVKE
golden hour by JVKE
.
.
Our cast
Sunny, (suitemate) 21, a (pre-med) molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major, is a cowgirl from Nebraska (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races). She’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady.

Lisa, (roommate) 21, my bff and a high society princess, who grew up in a 50th floor Central Park South high-rise. A (pre-med) molecular biophysics and biochemistry major.

Your author, a simple, multinational, upper-crust, trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia who's also a molecular biophysics and biochemistry major (pre-med).

I feel how I believe an apple with worms must feel. I am aware of my desire to ripen and be eaten, and I am also aware of the *****, crawling creatures inside of me. I will be cut open, and they will see the dirt brown rotting of my core. It is a tragedy that I could've been like those sweet, red apples, and it is a tragedy that I never could've been like them as well.