When the air turns electric and the veil thins, beauty takes a darker bloom, no screams, no chainsaws, just the slow burn of imagination and the shiver of inspiration.
When the air turns electric and the veil thins, beauty takes a darker bloom, no screams, no chainsaws, just the slow burn of imagination and the shiver of inspiration.
The flame in me demands I dance ecstatic.
She feeds me honey—liquid gold, warm and alive. To drink Her love is to drown and rise again shimmering.
Eclipse me a little — just a touch, slow and coy, not too quick.
Light a candle, press play, and let the room fold you into shadowed tenderness.
He kisses each palm, then the crown of my head. I exhale.
Rest in sweet caramel of the mind and heart.
Music for ritual, desire, and devotion.
My heart engulfed in the fire of Your love. The pain is not too much, and You are the relief. Your livewire of ecstasy, dangerous love, transformation, rose and thorn.
Her eyes wept tiny white flowers, ancestral medicine, down cheek and chin. I watched as she drew me in.