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#xana
is not merely water and beauty. She is the hidden fire in the well, the serpent beneath the mirror of the sea. Her name travels through my blood like a forbidden prayer. I curse her in the daylight yet at night my bones remember her. My Xana ageless dancer of the unseen court, spinning between mercy and ruin, between the wine and the wound. She does not ask. She arrives. Her fingers touch my face like the wind of an ancient desert, soft yet heavy with the memory of storms. When her body draws near time loosens its knots. The soul trembles between thirst and drowning. My hunger for her is not of the body alone. It is the hunger of dust for the breath that made it. My Xana my trial, my intoxication, my burning gate. She is heaven whispering through hell.
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Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 11:31 PM UTC
Marwan-Baytie
My Xana
is not merely water and beauty. She is the hidden fire in the well, the serpent beneath the mirror of the sea. Her name travels through my blood like a forbidden prayer. I curse her in the daylight yet at night my bones remember her. My Xana ageless dancer of the unseen court, spinning between mercy and ruin, between the wine and the wound. She does not ask. She arrives. Her fingers touch my face like the wind of an ancient desert, soft yet heavy with the memory of storms. When her body draws near time loosens its knots. The soul trembles between thirst and drowning. My hunger for her is not of the body alone. It is the hunger of dust for the breath that made it. My Xana my trial, my intoxication, my burning gate. She is heaven whispering through hell.
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