If parchment dreams deny the mess that living hearts must ride through stormLet critics sigh—we’ll keep the mess, its bruise-blue pulse, its vivid formOur love rejects the flawless mask, prefers the honest fractured gleamA flame that gutters, flares again, stubborn beyond the story’s schem
Crimson Invitation
In hallway’s hush, a ribbon flutters on the brass,A single thread in red, a tender, stolen dare;Moonlight pools where shadows softly pass,
And every breath between us hangs in quiet air.
Her fingers brush its edge, a pulse behind each beat,
Eyes lift in knowing challenge, lips curved in silent dare.We meet where thresholds blur, where skin and promise greet,
Two hearts wide open, stripped of every guarded layer.
Candles line the sill, their glow a subtle hum,
Wax drips in molten beads that trace the curve of tiles.She sheds her robe like whispers falling from the tongue,
Each motion stirs a hunger that lingers in the aisles.
I capture dawn’s first flicker in the hollow of her neck,
His mouth finds secret hollows where desire wakes.Our bodies write a story that no page could ever check,
Ink pooled in kisses, every kiss a risk she takes.
Her back arches to my hands, a song of tender claim,
Fingernails call signatures along my waiting skin.We build a world of longing, set each moment aflame,
Then let the rush of daylight find the fervor once held within.
Dawn steals in softly, draping gold across her hair,
She presses one last ribbon ’round my wrist to show we’re bound.In that crimson coil, our secret love laid bare,
Two souls entwined forever where whispered vows resound.