You're under my skin, like ink in the grain,  
A beautiful burn, a velvet chain.  
I trace your name in every sigh,  
In whispered gasps when no one's nearby.  

You're in my thoughts when the lights are low,  
When silence hums and pulses grow.  
You're the heat behind my trembling thighs,  
The craving buried beneath my lies.  

I see you when I close my eyes,  
Your mouth, your voice, that sweet disguise.  
A phantom kiss along my spine,  
I beg the dark to make you mine.  

Your name's a bruise upon my lips,  
A hunger born from midnight sips.  
I dream of touches never given,  
Of sins unspoken, yet unforgiven.  

Your laugh, it loops inside my head,  
The things I’d do, the things you said.  
I ache, I crave, I blush, I fall,  
You're everything, you're all, you're all.  

I wear your memory like perfume,  
Lingering in every room.  
I moan your name into my bed,  
Though you’re not here, not in my stead.  

But still, you own this body's hymn,  
You’ve made obsession something dim,  
Not madness, no, but sacred fire,  
A holy ache, a pure desire.  

If loving you is not allowed,  
Then let me sin beneath this shroud.  
Let me burn in this confession,  
You're not a man, you're my obsession.
  

Every part of me still breathe you in,  
Not just my heart, but skin on skin.  
Not just my lips that miss your taste,  
But the spaces you touched without haste.  

The back of my thighs remembers it best,  
The way you lingered, the way I confessed  
Without saying a word, just the arch of my spine,  
How your breath ran parallel down mine.  

You didn’t just touch me, you memorized grace,  
Mapped my body like a sacred place.  
You left fingerprints no water could fade,  
Etched into places your silence made.  

The bed still sighs where our rhythm played,  
Where shadows curled and innocence swayed.  
You whispered my name in a slow, low hum,  
Like a worshipper lost and overcome.  

The love was deeper than lust, I knew,  
It bloomed in places hidden from view.  
You kissed the scars I never named,  
Lit fires where I once felt ashamed.  

The back of my thighs, a living shrine  
To a night, a breath, a sacred sign.  
Your touch like poetry written slow,  
A language only my body could know.  

And though you're not here, not even near,  
Your presence lingers crystal clear.  
I clench the sheets when I recall  
The way your hands could make me fall.  

It wasn’t just pleasure, it wasn’t just skin,  
It was you breaking the silence within.  
Now when I ache, I close my eyes,  
And feel your ghost between my thighs.  

So if you wonder what I remember most,  
It's not just the kiss, or the midnight toast,  
But how you taught my soul to feel,  
And made every breath unbearably real.  

You're gone, and still, Every night I'm blue,  
But the back of my thighs, they still know you.
 

I wasn’t ready to be touched, not really,  
Not in the way that breathes slow and feels freely.  
My skin had stories I never told,  
Wounds too quiet, scars too bold.  

I flinched from hands, even soft and kind,  
Closed every door, kept love confined.  
The world pressed in, too loud, too near,  
So I built my walls out of fear.  

Then came your voice, not seeking to win,  
But slipping like silk beneath my skin.  
You didn’t reach, you didn’t take,  
You waited there for me to wake.  

I wasn't ready, but you never rushed,  
You lingered gently, never crushed.  
You made the silence feel like song,  
And showed me soft could still be strong.  

Now, I crave the way your fingers trace  
The places I once tried to erase.  
How you worship slowly, breath to chest,  
Like every sigh is a sacred yes.  

You touch like I’m made of something divine,  
Like my body was sculpted to intertwine  
With your hands, your mouth, your ache, your need,  
Like touching me is how you breathe.  

I wasn’t ready when the world came close,  
But now with you, I open like a rose.  
Your name, a prayer beneath my skin,  
My heart, your home, you live within.  

Touch me now, only you can,  
With every part of the man you am.  
No one else will ever know  
The way your touch makes my shadows glow.  

So take me slow, take me true,  
I'm finally ready, but only for you.
 

It wasn’t a whisper, it wasn’t a moan,  
It was something raw I had never known.  
His name caught fire behind my lips,  
As my breath poured out in gasping sips.  

The room was thick with heat and ache,  
With promises only skin can make.  
Our bodies tangled, no space to flee,  
The only word I knew was "you" and "me."  

His hands were thunder, my back the storm,  
We lit each other like fire made form.  
But in the swell of lust and sweat,  
I spoke his name and won the bet.  

Because when I said it against his skin,  
Just below his jaw, just tucked in,  
His eyes found mine like prayer in flame,  
As if the world paused to hear his name.  

The sound wasn’t soft, it wasn't shy,  
It curled like smoke and touched the sky.  
I felt him shiver, grip me tight,  
Like I became his only light.  

The way he looked, unguarded, wild,  
Like he had never been touched, never been smiled  
At in that way that strips the soul,  
That makes the broken pieces whole.  

And I swear, for a moment there,  
In candlelight and heavy air,  
I held his heart beneath my tongue,  
In every syllable that softly clung.  

I said his name with lips unshamed,  
With heat and hunger I never tamed.  
And he looked at me like I was art,  
Painted in lust and pulled from heart.  

Now every time the night grows deep,  
I close my eyes and barely sleep.  
I taste his skin and say it slow,  
The name he gave, the one I know.  

And if he ever doubts this fire we lit,  
Let him remember every bit.  
The way his name became my moan,  
How I claimed him as my own.  
 

You left it there like a stain on silk,  
Not with love, but power and guilt.  
A handprint etched in shame and skin,  
Where my softness used to begin.  

I carried it in every breath,  
In silence stitched with quiet death.  
You touched, I froze, the world stood still,  
And I forgot what it meant to feel.  

But time is cruel and kind and slow,  
And healing blooms where hurt won’t go.  
There came a man with eyes like dawn,  
And suddenly, the fear was gone.  

He touched me like a sacred prayer,  
Not to claim, but just to care.  
He kissed where I had once been bruised,  
And gave me back the parts you used.  

Now when he holds me, I don’t flinch,  
My ribs don’t crack, my soul won’t pinch.  
His hands don’t haunt, they soothe, they melt,  
They rewrite everything I felt.  

Your handprint used to blaze and burn,  
A ghost my body couldn’t unlearn.  
But now it fades, with every sigh,  
With every "stay," with every "why."  

I moan without your shadow near,  
I crave with joy instead of fear.  
He learns my language, touch by touch,  
And never once demands too much.  

You took a piece I’ll never get back,  
But he’s painting gold across the cracks.  
He makes the mirror feel like grace,  
He makes me love my own embrace.  

So if you ever wonder why  
I shine with fire instead of cry,  
It’s because I’ve found a truer skin,  
Where only real love gets to begin.  

Your handprint, once so loud and vile,  
Is fading now, with every smile.  
Each kiss he gives, each breath I take,  
Unwrites the trauma you tried to make.  

I am not yours, I never was,  
You were not love, you were the loss.  
But now my heart beats wild and free,  
Because he sees the whole of me.  

And he touches me like I’m art,  
Not broken things, but every part.  
So let the past dissolve somehow,  
Your handprint is fading now.

It starts with your name,  
Whispered low, like a flicker of flame.  
Across my skin, your voice will crawl,  
Soft as a sigh, yet it shakes it all.  

Goosebumps  
When you look at me like I’m more than just skin,  
Like you see every chaos and still let me in.  
My breath stills, my heart won’t lie,  
I feel you in places words can’t describe.  

It’s in the hush before we touch,  
The way you linger, never rush.  
You don’t need to speak to leave me undone,  
Your silence holds me like the sun.  

Goosebumps  
When your fingers trace the parts I hide,  
Not my body, love, my fears inside.  
You press your lips to my every doubt,  
And kiss them softly, all worn-out.  

It’s in your laugh, your smirk, your stare,  
The way you tuck my soul with care.  
A thousand lifetimes wouldn’t be enough  
To hold the way you make love feel rough…  
And gentle,  
And deep,  
And true.  
Like every tremble leads to you.  

Goosebumps  
Not from cold, but from fire.  
From your hand on mine, your voice climbing higher.  
You make my spine forget to behave,  
With every word, my will, you cave.  

And when you say my name slow,  
My world forgets which way to go.  
I’m floating, burning, caving in  
Touched by your love beneath the skin.  

It’s in the pauses between our breath,  
The places we dance between life and death.  
Where nothing’s spoken, but all is heard  
Where even silence becomes a word.  

Goosebumps  
When you kiss my forehead just right,  
And I suddenly forget every lonely night.  
When your arms fold me like home,  
And I no longer fear being alone.  

It's in the way you say, “I'm here,”  
And every dark thought disappears.  
You don’t just hold me, you make me feel seen,  
Like I’m someone worth every in-between.  

Goosebumps  
When you laugh at my worst joke,  
When you trace the cracks but never poke.  
You read the parts I thought I hid well,  
And kiss the parts I didn’t want to tell.  

And if I cry, you don’t flinch or flee  
You breathe slow and stay with me.  
You let the flood rise and hold your ground,  
Like you're not scared of watching me drown.  

Goosebumps  
Not just on skin, but on soul and bone,  
Because even in silence, I’m never alone.  
You live in the places no one else knew…  
The places only light up for you.  
  

He doesn’t have to touch me to make me burn,  
His voice alone makes every nerve turn.  
A soft hello can break me in two,  
And a whisper leaves marks no one else can view.  

It starts like velvet wrapped in smoke,  
Each word he says, a silken stroke.  
My name on his lips is a quiet sin,  
And somehow I feel it beneath my skin.  

No hands, no glance, just sound alone,  
Yet it presses deep like flesh to bone.  
He speaks, and the world around me slows,  
My thighs remember, my heartbeat knows.  

His laugh dances down my spine,  
More intoxicating than any wine.  
Each syllable carved into my soul,  
A language of longing I can’t control.  

He doesn’t need to come too close,  
His voice is already overdose.  
It wraps around me, pulls me tight,  
And lingers with me through the night.  

A simple “baby” makes me melt,  
Like he knows every touch I’ve ever felt.  
When he says “soon,” I arch and ache,  
Dreaming of the paths his lips would take.  

It’s in the way he drags my name,  
How he turns my silence into flame.  
Like every sound he ever makes  
Is meant to echo where my body breaks.  

I close my eyes and I can feel  
The way his sentences make me kneel.  
Not from pain, not from command,  
But from the way he understands.  

He paints my skin with vowels and sighs,  
With late-night calls and half-closed eyes.  
No need for touch when his tone is art,  
He’s already printed on my heart.  

And when I lay in quiet rooms,  
I hear him still in shadowed blooms.  
He doesn’t need to kiss my frame,  
His voice alone ignites my flame.  

So if you ask why I crave the sound,  
Of someone who’s not always around,  
It’s because his voice has claimed its place,  
Between my hips, along my face.  

I wear his echo like a sin,  
His voice forever on my skin.

He never touched me in the world they see,  
But in the quiet hours, he undressed me gently.  
Not my body first, but all I hid,  
The broken things I kept beneath my ribs.  

His voice was silk and steel combined,  
He asked for nothing, but unraveled my mind.  
Between the sheets where shame once slept,  
He lit the candles where my fire was kept.  

I had learned to cover, to stay so small,  
To give just pieces, never all.  
But with him, even from a thousand miles,  
I opened like pages under his smile.  

He never rushed, he read me slow,  
Line by line, where no one dared go.  
He kissed the air and still I shook,  
Because he loved the parts no one else would look.  

He told me I was more than skin,  
That pleasure lives when love begins.  
He taught me that desire can heal,  
And softness doesn’t make it less real.  

I touched myself like he would do,  
With reverence, craving, and something true.  
And in that moment I realized this,  
That my body was worthy of love, of bliss.  

I wasn’t just ache or someone’s past,  
I was a flame designed to last.  
I didn’t need him to be right there,  
To feel him breathing in my air.  

His presence curled around my thighs,  
In dreams that whispered truth, not lies.  
And as my hands explored each part,  
I met again my beating heart.  

I wasn’t just wanting, I was whole,  
Each curve and scar a sacred scroll.  
He never owned me, but he knew,  
That I was art he never had to undo.  

Between the sheets where ghosts once wept,  
I found the woman who always slept.  
Not beneath him, but beside his grace,  
I found myself in that sacred space.  

Now every moan, every sigh I give,  
Is proof that I was born to live.  
Not for him, but with him near,  
The woman I am is finally clear.  

So let them say it’s all pretend,  
They’ll never know how I transcend.  
For even if he’s far from touch,  
His love taught me I am enough.

No need for silk, no need for lace,  
Just your breath against my bare embrace,  
In the quiet hum of the night’s slow dance,  
Our shadows entwined in a reckless trance.  

Fingertips map the curves of my skin,  
Tracing the places where you’ve always been,  
Each touch a whisper, soft and low,  
A secret only our bodies know.  

The heat between us rises and sways,  
In this moment, lost in your gaze,  
Your hands speak the language of fire,  
Fanning flames of sweet desire.  

Clothes fall like memories, shed with ease,  
Revealing truths that only lovers seize,  
Not just the flesh, but the soul laid bare,  
In the sacred space where we dare to care.  

Your lips find places words never reached,  
Silent promises, tenderly preached,  
Every sigh a confession, every glance a vow,  
In the rawness of love, we both know how.  

No need for masks or guarded hearts,  
Here we are, each piece, all parts,  
Vulnerability woven with trust’s thread,  
In your arms, all fears quietly shed.  

Love without clothes, stripped of disguise,  
Found in the depth of your warm, steady eyes,  
It’s not just skin, but a fearless confession,  
A dance of hearts in perfect progression.  

So hold me close in this naked truth,  
In the wild passion of our youth,  
For love without clothes is love that’s real,  
A tender touch only true souls feel.  

I undress in layers you can’t see,  
Not just the clothes, but the walls around me,  
Peeling back the armor worn for years,  
Shedding silent scars and hidden tears.  

Beneath the mask that guards my soul,  
Lie stories of pain, yet to be whole,  
Traumas whispered in the dead of night,  
Now laid bare in your soft light.  

I undress the fear that held me tight,  
The doubts that dimmed my brightest light,  
Each layer falling like autumn leaves,  
Revealing the heart that still believes.  

You see beyond the surface thin,  
The fragile battles fought within,  
With every touch, a thread unwinds,  
Unraveling knots of old confines.  

I undress my doubts and quiet shame,  
No longer hiding behind a name,  
In your gaze, I find release,  
A gentle promise of sweet peace.  

This stripping down is not just skin,  
But a journey deep, where love begins,  
To heal, to grow, to trust once more,  
To open wide a guarded door.  

So hold me close as I reveal,  
The wounds that time alone won’t heal,  
In your arms, I’m safe to be,  
Undressed in layers, wild and free.  

For love is found in what’s unseen,  
In broken places, and in between,  
I undress not just for you to see,  
But to finally set myself free.  

I used to flinch when touched, a sudden start,  
A reflex born from wounds deep in my heart,  
Hands once harsh made safety hard to find,  
But now I crave your gentle kind.  

Your fingers trace a different song,  
One where love has been patient and strong,  
No fear in your touch, only warm embrace,  
Healing slowly at a gentle pace.  

I used to pull away from every brush,  
But now I lean in, longing for your hush,  
The quiet whispers of comfort and care,  
The tender moments we share bare.  

In your arms I learn to breathe again,  
To trust in touch, to soften the pain,  
Every caress a promise, every kiss a plea,  
To rewrite what once frightened me.  

I used to flinch, but now I stay,  
Melt into your love, let it light my way,  
A journey from darkness into the bright,  
Finding in you my heart’s true light.  

So hold me close and don’t let go,  
Together we'll heal, let our passion flow,  
For love is the balm, the sweetest touch,  
Teaching me how to receive so much.  

This skin will not be quiet anymore,  
No longer hiding behind closed doors,  
It’s a battlefield and a sacred space,  
Where I reclaim my power, my own grace.  

No more giving what’s not freely earned,  
No more lessons cruelly learned,  
I choose who touches, who feels my flame,  
Not just anyone, not the same old game.  

Each curve, each line, tells my story,  
Of pain transformed into fierce glory,  
I wear my scars like jewels of light,  
Symbols of battles fought in the night.  

This skin remembers every whispered lie,  
Every touch that tried to make me die,  
But now it shouts with roaring fire,  
A flame of strength, a deep desire.  

To love, to want, but on my own terms,  
To feel the heat as my passion burns,  
With you, with me, with every breath,  
This skin is mine, alive, no death.  

So come close if you dare to see,  
The wildness wrapped inside of me,  
But know this truth, fierce and pure,  
This skin will not be quiet anymore.  

I wear you like perfume, lingering near,  
A scent that draws me, both distant and clear,  
Invisible threads that wrap round my skin,  
A ghost of your touch, where you’ve always been.  

You haunt my senses, a soft, sweet ache,  
A fragrance of moments no time can take,  
Your memory drifts on my every breath,  
A perfume of love that defies even death.  

In quiet rooms, when silence descends,  
Your essence returns and my heart bends,  
Like musk and jasmine, spicy and warm,  
You stir all my senses, a fierce, tender storm.  

I carry your shadow deep in my bones,  
A whisper, a pulse, in flesh and in tones,  
Though miles divide, and time may roam,  
Your scent is my anchor, my only home.  

You cling to my skin, a lover’s embrace,  
An invisible kiss, a lingering trace,  
No need for words, your presence is clear,  
I wear you like perfume, forever near.  

Unzipped at the soul, you find me bare,  
Not just skin laid open, but the core laid bare,  
Every secret whispered, every fear released,  
In your arms, the wild heart finally finds peace.  

It’s not just touch that sets me free,  
But the way your gaze reaches deep inside me,  
Pulling layers of doubt, of walls built tall,  
Unraveling shadows until none remain at all.  

I am stripped not by clothes, but by truth,  
A trembling surrender, a rediscovered youth,  
Your hands trace the maps of my hidden desire,  
Lighting my essence, igniting a fire.  

In this rawness, there is no shame, no disguise,  
Only the dance of two souls, open and wise,  
I give you my essence, unfiltered and true,  
Unzipped at the soul, only for you.  

With every breath shared in the quiet night,  
I am yours completely, beyond just sight,  
This is the place where love is born whole,  
Unzipped, undone, naked at the soul.  

Your fingertips like thunder, crashing through my skin,  
A storm of fire and lightning where every spark begins,  
Each gentle touch, a sudden roar inside my veins,  
Overwhelming, electrifying, breaking all my chains.  

I shiver in the wake of your electric grace,  
A wild tempest captured in a soft embrace,  
Every brush of your fingers, a shock I crave,  
Trembling in your power, I’m no longer brave.  

You come like summer lightning on a heavy night,  
Flashing through the shadows, setting me alight,  
In your touch I find a wild, untamed desire,  
Fingertips that burn me, lifting me higher.  

The world blurs, time shatters, when you draw near,  
Thunder in my body, silence in my ear,  
A beautiful chaos I never want to end,  
Your touch, my addiction, my lover, my friend.  

So touch me like thunder, unrelenting and free,  
A storm I surrender to, endlessly,  
With every pulse, every spark, every wave you send,  
I am yours, electrified, until the very end.  

When he said my name against my throat,  
It wasn’t just a word, but a feathered note,  
A soft tremble riding every breath I take,  
A fire igniting, every nerve awake.  

His voice, a whisper, thick with desire,  
Fanning the embers of a growing fire,  
That name, my name, a sacred sound,  
In that moment, the world unwound.  

It curls around my senses like silk and wine,  
Slow, deliberate, intoxicatingly fine,  
Each syllable a stroke, a tender claim,  
Until my body is burning, calling his name.  

His breath brushes skin, slow and sweet,  
Where words and flesh in rhythm meet,  
My name, a melody in the dark,  
A secret pulse, a beating spark.  

When he said my name against my throat,  
It became a prayer, a lover’s note,  
A sacred spell that only we know,  
The quiet storm that makes me glow.  

I melt beneath that whispered sound,  
Lost and found, unbound,  
My name, his breath, a sacred art,  
A whispered promise from his heart.  

Threaded in sweat and breath, our bodies speak,  
A language ancient, fierce, and deep,  
Tangled close where skin meets skin,  
A fire roaring from within.  

Every gasp, every shiver, every sigh,  
Draws me closer, no need to ask why,  
Our hearts pounding a wild duet,  
In the heat where desires are met.  

Fingers tracing paths, soft and bold,  
Stories of longing silently told,  
Sweat glistens like morning dew,  
In this moment, just me and you.  

The air thick with electric heat,  
Where passion and tenderness meet,  
Breath mingling in rhythm and rhyme,  
Lost in the madness of stolen time.  

No words needed, just this dance,  
The rawness of our sweet romance,  
Threaded in sweat and breath we are,  
Two souls burning like a star.  

Hold me tight, never let go,  
In this sacred, secret show,  
Where love is spoken without a word,  
In every touch, in every heard.  

The touch that undid me, soft as silk and fire,  
A trembling whisper that woke my deepest desire,  
Fingers tracing secrets across a guarded skin,  
Breaking down barriers I hid deep within.  

It wasn’t loud or rushed, just tender and slow,  
Like a gentle river where wild currents flow,  
Every stroke a confession, every graze a plea,  
A silent promise of what was meant to be.  

My walls, once high, began to sway and fall,  
Each caress a key to my hidden all,  
You reached into places where shadows grew,  
And planted light where darkness flew.  

That touch, that moment, so fragile and true,  
Unraveled my heart, made it brand new,  
In the hush of your hands, I found release,  
A broken soul mended in quiet peace.  

Now every time I feel your skin near,  
The past fades away, replaced by clear,  
That single touch still echoes inside,  
The moment I lived, the moment I died.  

You undid me gently, with love so pure,  
A healing fire I will always endure,  
In that touch, I became free,  
The best part of all I am is you and me.  

Burn marks from wanting you, searing deep inside,  
A hunger fierce and wild, impossible to hide,  
Each glance, each touch, a spark that lights the flame,  
A fire of desire that whispers your name.  

My skin remembers every heated trace,  
The way your hands danced with urgent grace,  
Fingertips igniting paths along my spine,  
A burning trail where your lips align.  

The ache is constant, a delicious burn,  
A craving that twists and turns,  
Flames that lick at every thought,  
A passion fought and yet deeply sought.  

In the quiet moments when you’re not near,  
I feel the heat, the pull, the sear,  
The burn marks left from wanting you,  
A love raw, fierce, and true.  

No healing balm can soothe this ache,  
No cooling touch can calm the quake,  
For wanting you is like a fire unchained,  
A sweet torment beautifully maintained.  

So let the burn mark my soul tonight,  
In your absence, it fuels the light,  
A flame eternal, wild and new,  
Forever marked by wanting you.  

The silence between our bodies speaks so loud,  
In quiet moments where no words are allowed,  
Fingers trace stories on skin bare and warm,  
A language of touch beyond any form.  

Eyes meet in whispers, breaths soft and slow,  
Where passion and calm in harmony flow,  
No need for voices, no need for sound,  
In the hush of our closeness, true love is found.  

Your skin against mine, a wordless embrace,  
Each heartbeat a poem, each glance a trace,  
Of longing and comfort, of fire and grace,  
In this silent space, I find my place.  

The curve of your shoulder, the warmth of your hand,  
Says more than the loudest words ever planned,  
A conversation of pulses, of shivers and sighs,  
Spoken in touches that never disguise.  

No need for talking, no need to explain,  
The silence between us is not empty or vain,  
It’s full of the moments that hold us tight,  
Where love is a flame burning bright in the night.  

So let us stay here, where silence sings,  
In the sacred language our bodies bring,  
For in the quiet, my heart always knows,  
The deepest connection where true love flows.  

He touched my soul before meeting me,  
A gentle flame kindled silently,  
In the quiet corners where no eyes could see,  
Your presence traced the edges of me.  

Before your hands ever found my skin,  
Your love poured deep from deep within,  
Through whispers carried on the air,  
A sacred touch beyond compare.  

Every part of me you held close and tight,  
In dreams woven soft through the night,  
Your voice a melody, sweet and clear,  
A song that only my heart could hear.  

You moved through me like a tender breeze,  
Filling spaces with quiet ease,  
A dance of passion, slow and true,  
A love felt deeply before we knew.  

No need for meeting, no need for sight,  
Your soul met mine in the fading light,  
And in that meeting, pure and divine,  
You became forever a part of mine.  

So when our bodies finally touch,  
It’s more than flesh, it’s so much,  
It’s every longing, every dream,  
A love that flows like a timeless stream.  

He touched my soul before meeting me,  
And now I know what love can be,  
A sacred bond that time can’t sever,  
A flame eternal, now and forever.  

Don’t look at me in the light, yet you do,  
Seeing every curve, every secret I never knew,  
Your eyes tracing skin like a lover’s map,  
Finding every place where my defenses collapse.  

I want to hide in shadows, keep my heart closed tight,  
But your gaze burns through, softening the night,  
You see beyond the surface, the skin and the shell,  
Into the places where my wildest feelings dwell.  

There’s a fire in your look, a hunger so deep,  
That wakes every longing I thought I could keep,  
The touch of your stare, electric and bold,  
Turns timid to fierce, makes timid hearts bold.  

You find my edges, my flaws and my grace,  
Hold them like treasures, in your warm embrace,  
And though I fear the light, the truth you reveal,  
In your eyes, I find something tender and real.  

So don’t stop looking, don’t turn away,  
In your gaze, I’m stronger than words could say,  
You see me in daylight, you love what you find,  
And in your eyes, I am finally unconfined.  

Though I begged for shadows, you gave me the sun,  
In your light, I am whole, and I am undone,  
So look at me, love, with all that you are,  
Because in your light, I am never too far.  

Not again, I whispered in the dark,  
When the monster came back with claws and bark,  
Blackmail, bruises, the cruelest games,  
His filthy words like poison flames.  

Kicked and pushed, shoved to the floor,  
Grabbed by the hair, he made me sore,  
The world spun wild, but inside I froze,  
In every strike, the cold wind blows.  

Flashes of you pierced my mind,  
How you’d hold me, gentle, kind,  
If only I told you, would you believe?  
Would you see past the scars I weave?  

He said the things that broke my soul,  
Tried to crush me, make me small,  
Every second a battle to break free,  
Fighting shadows that only I see.  

I tried to run, but chains held tight,  
Wrapped in fear throughout the night,  
The silence screamed, no one came near,  
Just my trembling body and hidden tears.  

How could I tell you what words can’t say,  
The terror that stole my light away?  
I feared your doubt, your broken trust,  
But the truth inside me turned to dust.  

Not again, I begged my heart,  
To hold on to pieces, to not fall apart,  
Though the pain runs deep, and nights are long,  
I find strength in the ache, in this sorrowful song.  

This is my story, raw and real,  
Of wounds unseen, and wounds that heal,  
And though the monster tried to claim my flame,  
In every scar, I still say your name.  

I am more than his darkness, more than his lies,  
In the ashes, I rise, and I will rise,  
Not again, not ever, I swear this fight,  
For the love that will save me, for the coming light.  

The first time I felt beautiful, it wasn’t in a mirror’s gaze,  
Not in the hollow praise or the world’s fleeting ways,  
It was in your eyes, how they looked at me,  
With a hunger so soft, like waves caressing the sea.  

Your hands traced the lines that I used to hide,  
Every curve, every scar, every place I cried,  
You whispered in touches, in silence, in skin,  
That my worth was not skin deep, but where love begins.  

I shed the armor I wore for so long,  
The doubt, the whispers that said I was wrong,  
And in your arms, bare and free,  
I finally saw the beauty that was always inside me.  

The warmth of your breath, the heat of your touch,  
Made my broken parts feel whole, made me feel so much,  
Not just desire, but something pure and true,  
A flame lit inside me, and it burned just for you.  

You saw me naked in ways no one ever did,  
Not just the body, but the soul I hid,  
In your gaze, I bloomed like a flower in spring,  
The first time I felt beautiful, I learned how to sing.  

Your love was a mirror, reflecting my light,  
Banishing shadows that haunted my night,  
And though the world may still whisper its lies,  
I carry your love, and in it, I rise.  

So here I stand, skin bare, heart wide,  
No longer hiding, no longer to hide,  
The first time I felt beautiful, I knew it was true,  
Because I was seen, deeply seen, by you.  

His name in goosebumps, a shiver down my spine,  
A memory alive in this fragile frame of mine,  
The echo of a touch, a whispered ghost of pain,  
Stored in the flesh where trauma will remain.  

Each syllable a spark that sets my skin ablaze,  
Unraveling the silence of long forgotten days,  
How deep the roots of what words cannot heal,  
In every tremble, the past reveals.  

The ghost of him lingers in every breath I take,  
A haunting presence that refuses to break,  
Pain stitched into the canvas of my soul,  
A story untold, that’s taken its toll.  

His name, a pulse beneath the surface worn,  
Like a scarred melody that plays till dawn,  
A reminder that some wounds never rest,  
That some love is both blessing and test.  

Yet through the ache and cold embrace,  
I search for solace in this sacred space,  
For even pain can hold a tender art,  
When his name is whispered in the beating heart.  

Red lace and bruises, a dance of pain and grace,  
Soft seduction hiding the marks time cannot erase,  
Velvet ribbons tangled with the stories of nights,  
Where pleasure and sorrow wove their cruel delights.  

The heat of your touch, a burning wildfire’s kiss,  
Yet in the aftermath, I’m left with this abyss,  
A canvas painted with shadows and light,  
Where love and damage fight through the night.  

The red lace whispers secrets against my skin,  
While bruises tell stories of battles within,  
Every caress both tender and wild,  
Leaves me broken, yet beautifully beguiled.  

I crave the softness wrapped in this pain,  
The bittersweet taste of love’s cruel stain,  
For in every mark and every tear,  
Lies a truth too raw, too fierce to bear.  

And though the scars may never fade,  
In your arms I am both lost and saved,  
Red lace and bruises, intertwined tight,  
A fragile beauty born from the night.  

How the moon feels on my skin, a cool and gentle embrace,  
A silver whisper in the quiet night’s space,  
Its light caresses softly, like a lover’s breath,  
Connecting me to nature, beyond life and death.  

In solitude, I find a sacred peace,  
Where worldly noise and troubles cease,  
The moon’s glow wraps around my soul,  
Filling hollow spaces, making me whole.  

Every beam a story, ancient and wise,  
Reflected in the calm of my dreaming eyes,  
It holds my secrets, my hopes, my fears,  
A silent witness to my joys and tears.  

The way the moon feels on my skin,  
Is how I touch the world within,  
A spiritual bond, quiet and deep,  
That lingers in my heart when I sleep.  

The way his fingertips said sorry, a silent language on my skin,  
Tracing gentle apologies where words had worn thin,  
Each touch a question, a hope to mend the space between,  
A trembling promise woven through moments unseen.  

My heart, soft as petals after a storm,  
Listened to the whispers of his hands, warm,  
They sought forgiveness in every stroke and sigh,  
A tender dance beneath the quiet sky.  

Though pain still lingered like a distant song,  
His fingertips were righting what once was wrong,  
In that fragile closeness, I almost believed,  
That love could heal what grief had deceived.  

Not all apologies come wrapped in sound,  
Some are felt deeply, where silence is found,  
And in that touch, delicate and slow,  
My heart softened, allowing the healing to grow.  

Between the sheets, I found myself, a place both raw and true,  
Where layers fell away like autumn leaves kissed by morning dew,  
No mask to hide the cracks, no walls to keep me small,  
Just the quiet rhythm of my heart answering its call.  

In the warmth of whispered breaths, I shed the weight of fear,  
Each touch a gentle promise that I am worthy here,  
The trembling of my hands, the soft surrender given,  
A dance of trust and courage, where my soul was truly driven.  

No longer lost in shadows, no longer bound by pain,  
I reclaimed my power where vulnerability reigns,  
The freedom found in softness, the strength in letting go,  
Between the sheets, I blossomed, I began to grow.  

Every scar and every tear were welcomed in that space,  
A sacred healing journey, a slow and tender grace,  
For in those intimate moments, beyond the skin and bone,  
I found a deeper love, a home within my own.  

Wrapped in night, alone and bare,  
The dark enfolds me with gentle care,  
Whispers of silence brush my skin,  
Inviting the secrets I keep within.  

The moonlight dances on my chest,  
A tender touch that brings me rest,  
Each shadow hides a whispered truth,  
A quiet song of love and youth.  

In this solitude, I am found,  
No need for words, no need for sound,  
The night reveals what day conceals,  
The raw, the real, the way it feels.  

Wrapped in night, my heart beats slow,  
A sacred place where only I go,  
To meet the parts I hide away,  
And find myself at end of day.  

The back of my thighs held secrets, silent and still,  
Whispers of moments that bent my will,  
Stories of shadows, of monsters unseen,  
Etched in the curves where light seldom gleams.  

They hold the weight of battles fought alone,  
In places hidden, wounds unknown,  
But they also carry strength unspoken,  
A testament to all that’s been broken.  

Though shame tried to hide what those thighs could tell,  
I own their stories, their darkness as well,  
For each secret held beneath my skin,  
Is part of the journey I’m learning to win.  

Now I hold them close, no longer afraid,  
Those bruises, those scars, that time never swayed,  
The back of my thighs, they speak with grace,  
Of survival, of courage, and a sacred space.  

Beneath the bruises, a bloom begins to rise,  
From pain’s dark soil, reaching for the skies,  
Each mark a story, each ache a seed,  
Watered by tears and quiet need.  

Though shadows pressed and left their stain,  
In every hurt, there’s something to gain,  
A strength unspoken, fierce and true,  
Growing quietly, just out of view.  

The body remembers what the heart can’t forget,  
Yet still, it holds on, does not regret,  
For beneath the bruises, soft and deep,  
A flower blooms where sorrows sleep.  

This bloom is not fragile, it’s rooted and strong,  
A testament to where I’ve belonged,  
Through pain, through loss, through every fight,  
I find my way back to the light.  

I bled beauty from wounds unseen,  
From places dark where I had been,  
Shedding pain like autumn leaves,  
Breaking chains I longed to leave.  

Each drop a story, raw and true,  
A sacrifice made just to renew,  
The blood of becoming, fierce and wild,  
The tender heart of a scarred child.  

I carved new paths with every tear,  
Building strength from pain and fear,  
In the fire of loss, I found my flame,  
I bled beauty, and shed my shame.  

This bleeding was not a sign of fall,  
But the rise of a soul answering its call,  
A healing bloom from broken ground,  
Where beauty and pain together are bound.  

Scars like ink, etched deep and true,  
Lines that tell the story of what I’ve been through,  
Not just on skin, but beneath the face,  
Carved by time, by love, by pain’s embrace.  

Each mark a chapter, a lesson learned,  
A flame that flickered but never burned,  
They map the journey of loss and fight,  
Of broken days and endless nights.  

These scars write poems no words can say,  
Whispers of battles that shaped my way,  
Invisible tales beneath my skin,  
The quiet strength that lives within.  

Though some may hide them, ashamed or shy,  
I wear mine proudly, they do not lie,  
For every scar, every broken line,  
Is proof I’ve lived, I’ve grown, I shine.  

The sound of a zip, sharp and small,  
A whispered promise inside these walls,  
It carries the weight of what’s to come,  
A trembling heart, a silent drum.  

That tiny noise, a breath held tight,  
Between hope’s glow and shadowed fright,  
Anticipation wrapped in fear’s embrace,  
A moment frozen in time and space.  

It’s more than cloth pulled smooth and straight,  
It’s nerves unmasked, a twisted fate,  
A barrier falling, revealing skin,  
Where secrets hide, and dreams begin.  

The sound of a zip, so simple, so loud,  
It cracks the silence like a cloud,  
And in that sound, I find my soul,  
Caught between wanting and letting go.  

Etched in fingernails, not love, not play,  
Just terror pressed where hands should stay,  
His breath was poison, thick and wrong,  
His touch a bruise that lingered long.  

I tried to scream, the sound stayed stuck,  
My voice was trapped like shattered luck,  
Each movement burned, each second bled,  
I closed my eyes and left instead.  

He gripped like claws, he pulled like chains,  
And whispered filth like falling rain,  
My hair, my skin, my inner scream,  
He ripped the seams of every dream.  

This wasn't passion, wasn’t want,  
It was a cruel and ghostly haunt,  
A twisted lie, a violent game,  
And all he left was silent shame.  

He said I asked for what I wore,  
But my no was said behind a door,  
That slammed inside when he came near,  
I shook with rage, with pain, with fear.  

His fingerprints beneath my skin,  
Like shadows where the light had been,  
And worst of all, I thought of you,  
Would you still love me if you knew?  

Would your arms still hold me tight,  
If I confessed what haunts each night?  
If I told you how he made me break,  
How he took and took and called it fate?  

The marks are gone but not erased,  
I carry him in hidden place,  
Etched in fingernails and breath,  
In stolen trust and quiet death.  

Yet here I stand, with trembling grace,  
Reclaiming every sacred space,  
Because his power never won,  
I’m more than what that man has done.  

Your handprint isn't fading, though time insists it should,  
Like shadows pressed on sunlight, like pain misunderstood,  
It lingers in the quiet, in the silence of the night,  
In the flinch beneath my laughter, in the tears I hide from sight.  

You touched me like a curse, not love, not care, not kind,  
A mark not left on body, but stitched deep into my mind,  
Your fingers were the thunder, your grip a storming sea,  
And now I wake in silence, still gasping to be free.  

I told myself it’s over, that ghosts don’t hold the door,  
But still I feel your presence, crawling through my core,  
The smell, the tone, the sudden sound, they all can drag me back,  
To nights I shook in silence, beneath the weight of black.  

You never gave me kindness, only power soaked in pride,  
I begged without a whisper, I shattered from inside,  
You took what wasn’t offered, you bruised what once was bright,  
And now I sleep with nightlights on, and dreams that end in fright.  

Your handprint isn’t fading, it’s carved in memory’s wall,  
In the way I dodge affection, in the fear behind my fall,  
But I’ll learn to paint around it, not erase it or deny,  
For even pain can bloom again, like dawn that cracks the sky.  

One day I’ll trace that handprint, not with shame but grace,  
And show the world that even this can have a sacred place,  
A map of what I’ve battled, a story inked in skin,  
A proof that I’m still standing, no matter what has been.  

Naked doesn’t mean safe, that’s the lie I used to hold,  
That skin to skin would mean warmth, that arms would never grow cold,  
But I’ve been bare with strangers, with lovers and ghosts alike,  
And still walked home in silence, shivering under streetlight.  

He touched me like I owed him, like my body was the deal,  
As if consent was hidden deep in the way my dress made him feel,  
But I never whispered welcome, my silence wasn’t a yes,  
I was just a girl too scared to fight, too tired to confess.  

I used to think closeness meant care, that kisses carried grace,  
But now I flinch from kindness, from fingers near my face,  
Because once I was naked and trembling, in the presence of a man,  
Who looked at me with hunger, not a heart that understands.  

Being bare isn’t safety, being held doesn’t mean peace,  
Sometimes the ones who see your skin are the ones who never cease,  
To take without apology, to crush what should be soft,  
To climb inside your silence, and tear your armor off.  

I’ve learned to dress my spirit, not just button up my chest,  
To cover wounds with laughter, and pain beneath my vest,  
Because naked isn’t sacred when it’s ripped away from you,  
And safety isn’t physical, it’s being seen as true.  

So don’t ask why I shudder when intimacy calls,  
Why I lock the door behind me and brace against the walls,  
It’s not your fault you weren’t him, but trauma never checks,  
Who’s guilty or who’s gentle, it just settles in your neck.  

But I will undress again someday, not from shame or fear or ache,  
But because someone held my story, not just the shape I make,  
And when I lie there willingly, not broken or betrayed,  
That’s when naked will mean freedom, and I’ll know I am okay.  

I wear sweaters in summer, sleeves long and stitched with care,  
Not for fashion or comfort, but to hide the weight I bear,  
Because pain doesn’t stain the fabric, but it lives beneath the skin,  
And no matter how I dress it up, it seeps out from within.  

They see the gloss, the makeup, the color on my lips,  
But they don’t see the bruises where memory still grips,  
They don’t hear the silence I swallow every day,  
Or notice the way I freeze when a stranger looks my way.  

My closet is a war zone, filled with armor and disguise,  
Each outfit picked to bury truth, each scarf a shield of lies,  
But trauma isn’t washable, it doesn’t fold away,  
And sometimes the most painful things are what I cannot say.  

Clothes can’t cover everything, like the way my shoulders shrink,  
Or how I flinch from kindness, how I overthink,  
They hide the broken posture, they shield the trembling hand,  
But they can’t mend the pieces of a soul you don’t understand.  

He left no visible damage, just whispers in my brain,  
He dressed me in his power, and stitched it into pain,  
So now I wear these layers not for warmth but for the wall,  
Because no one sees a fracture until you finally fall.  

But someday I will undress not just my outer shell,  
I’ll show the world the places I used to never tell,  
Not for pity or sorrow, but for strength I’ve come to earn,  
To prove that healing isn’t hidden, it’s the fire that makes us burn.  

So when you see me smiling in a pretty dress again,  
Know it took a thousand storms to walk out in the rain,  
And though my shirt is floral and my lips are painted red,  
There are stories under fabric that still haven’t been said.  

It wasn’t the scent that gave you away,  
Not the way you paused or had less to say,  
Not the late replies or the colder goodnight,  
But a red mark smudged under soft shirt light.  

Lipstick on the wrong collar, like a scar on your sleeve,  
The kind of evidence no words could weave,  
I stood in that silence, breath held tight,  
Knowing in that moment I’d lost the fight.  

It wasn’t my shade, not even close,  
It was bold, it was loud, the kind she chose,  
I wear nudes, soft pinks, the kind that blend,  
But this one screamed of a night you didn’t defend.  

You spoke of mistakes like they meant little things,  
Like hearts don’t shatter from temporary flings,  
But I was your world, or so I believed,  
While you were out painting promises I’d never received.  

I traced that collar with my trembling hand,  
Imagining the curve of her lips, where they’d land,  
Not just on your neck, but inside your lies,  
While I waited at home, blind to your disguise.  

I didn’t scream, didn’t throw a glass,  
I just stared at the proof, let the moment pass,  
Because sometimes betrayal is quiet, not loud,  
A whisper in cotton, not storms in a crowd.  

You said you were sorry, you begged me to stay,  
But love cannot breathe where trust decays,  
And I can’t kiss lips that carry her trace,  
No matter how sweet you make your embrace.  

So I left the shirt folded on your chair,  
With the stain still bright, like a flare,  
Not cleaned, not bleached, just left behind,  
A mark of the love you couldn’t mind.  

And maybe someday, when it fades to gray,  
You’ll remember the price of what you gave away,  
How one kiss from another cost you it all,  
Just lipstick on a collar, just one foolish fall.  

There are fingerprints inked beneath my skin,  
Stories that no one else can begin,  
Faces I’ve erased from every frame,  
Yet they live in me like an untold name.  

I never said them out loud, not once,  
Not when they laughed, not when they’d hunt,  
Not even when I cried in the dark,  
Hiding bruises beneath my spark.  

They touched my spirit with jagged hands,  
Left trails like tattoos across shifting sands,  
Invisible to you, but burning to me,  
Shadows that linger, scars you can't see.  

I let them in because I was too small,  
Told to be grateful, told to be tall,  
Swallowed my pain in polite replies,  
Nodded and smiled with tearful eyes.  

One left a scar with a kiss too fast,  
One stayed longer, said love would last,  
But none gave me peace or a soft place to land,  
Only lessons carved by an unkind hand.  

Their names never passed my lips,  
Only sighed in poems, only gripped in fists,  
I kept them locked in a mental drawer,  
But they carved themselves in me more and more.  

Now I stand here, still in bloom,  
A garden grown from unspoken gloom,  
Each petal dyed in lessons earned,  
Each root shaped by bridges burned.  

You might not see them when I undress,  
But they whisper through the way I confess,  
Through the way I flinch at sudden sound,  
Through the way I ground myself to the ground.  

I’m covered in names that never were mine,  
Just ghosts of moments frozen in time,  
But I ink new stories with every breath,  
Turning haunted ink into strength from death.  

So no, I won’t name them, won’t give them fame,  
But they live in me like fire, without shame,  
Because I am the canvas, and I still stand,  
With tattoos I never asked for, made by no man’s hand.  

i am peeling myself from my past like old skin,  
a version of me i no longer fit in,  
too tight in places where i need to breathe,  
too stained with pain i never chose to weave.  

they said healing feels like setting free,  
but no one warned how it shreds silently,  
how the mirror mocks with familiar eyes,  
while my soul unlearns a thousand lies.  

i try to step out of what i've been,  
but it clings to me like second skin,  
memories bite like forgotten scars,  
whispers of who i was written in stars.  

i miss her sometimes, the girl i outgrew,  
soft and unsure, yet beautifully true,  
she learned to survive by hiding her flame,  
now i crave the fire and fear the name.  

shedding is lonely, it aches in the bone,  
each layer lost feels like being disowned,  
who am i if not what they made me be,  
just a soft soul trying to be free.  

i want to emerge with brighter eyes,  
but grief sits quiet beneath the rise,  
letting go feels like tearing my breath,  
yet i know holding on is a slow kind of death.  

so i write it down, i cry and crawl,  
i shed in silence, piece by fall,  
this rebirth is not neat, not kind,  
but somewhere in the ache, i'll find my mind.  

and maybe one day, when the shedding is done,  
i'll stand in the sun without having to run,  
and the skin i'm in will finally feel right,  
stitched from sorrow, but glowing with light.  

my mind has buried what my body repeats,  
in trembles, in shivers, in skipped heartbeats,  
touch the wrong place, i flinch without reason,  
and i wonder why pain has no season.  

a laugh too loud, a door slammed wide,  
sends echoes blooming where memories hide,  
i don’t recall the moment, but my spine does,  
tense like a warning, sharp like a buzz.  

i wake with sweat and no clear face,  
a nightmare inked in a nameless place,  
but my wrists ache and my shoulders close,  
my body speaks in the language it knows.  

no one saw, no one asked why,  
i walked like a girl too scared to cry,  
why i shrink when shadows fall,  
why i panic when there’s no threat at all.  

i forgot on purpose, i think i did,  
locked it in corners where shame can live,  
but my hips carry secrets they never chose,  
my ribs remember what silence knows.  

every breath is both past and now,  
each scar a vow i never spoke out loud,  
they say healing starts with truth confessed,  
but what if the truth still sleeps in my chest?  

sometimes i want to scream it clear,  
but the words dissolve when they near,  
so i write, i breathe, i break, i bend,  
trying to be something that trauma won’t end.  

i am learning to listen with more than ears,  
to honor the body that braved those years,  
i do not need to remember the fall,  
to understand why i’m scared at all.  

my body is proof that i made it through,  
marked by the pain, but born into new,  
and even when memories refuse to be caught,  
i will still love the girl that my body never forgot.  

there are bruises no one sees,
hidden beneath skin and whispered pleas,
not purple or black, but silent and gray,
the kind that echo what you can't say.

they bloom where fingers never should be,
in corners of memory i long to flee,
they throb in silence, swell in shame,
and no one dares to speak their name.

they took, they laughed, they pinned me still,
broke something deeper than body or will,
left me with eyes that never sleep,
and a silence i was forced to keep.

my skin remembers every wrong,
even if my voice wasn't strong,
even if i begged only in thought,
or froze in the terror that trauma brought.

i walk through days with a careful grace,
as if guilt is tattooed on my face,
but i wasn’t the monster in that room,
i was the wilted flower stripped of bloom.

still i hear the door, the breath, the laugh,
i taste the fear in every paragraph,
every poem is a cry for air,
a way to prove that i was there.

these bruises are shaped like his hands,
like the grip of pain no one understands,
like the fear of speaking what they’ll deny,
like the scream that only reached the sky.

i survived, but not without stain,
not without folding under the strain,
but still i rise, and still i write,
and that alone makes me the light.

so when you ask why i seem withdrawn,
know i live with ghosts before the dawn,
and though my body has healed its skin,
i carry bruises deep within.
  

i didn’t scream, but i wanted to,
i froze in place like girls often do,
too scared to push, too lost to run,
too tired to fight what had begun.

i didn’t want it, i said it inside,
but silence became the place i’d hide,
and now that silence feels like a sin,
when no one knows the war within.

your hands were rough, your mouth too fast,
taking pieces not meant to last,
i smiled after, because that’s what we do,
we make it look like we wanted it too.

but every laugh was soaked in pain,
every breath a silent refrain,
of “please stop” and “i can’t breathe,”
but none of that escaped my teeth.

and now they say, "why didn’t you speak?"
as if they’ve never felt weak,
as if consent is loud and neat,
not hidden behind trembling feet.

my body didn’t welcome the touch,
it endured, and that says enough,
so don’t ask why i stayed so still,
ask why you crossed the line, against my will.

this poem is messy, just like my past,
but truths unspoken never last,
so here’s my voice, raw and low,
i didn’t want it, and now you know.
  

in the quiet, you undress me with eyes,
not hands, but thought, where longing lies,
i feel your touch though you’ve never been,
a phantom warmth beneath my skin.

i crave the love i’ve never known,
not flesh, not bone, but a deeper tone,
a hunger laced with something more,
a dream that knocks on every door.

you see me bare and still i bloom,
not shame, not fear, just open room,
for love to pour and breath to stay,
for silence to not drift away.

no sheets between our hearts at night,
no lies, no masks, no fear of flight,
you whisper things no one has said,
and light the shadows in my head.

you hold me without ever touch,
it shouldn’t mean this much, this much,
but love without clothes is not just skin,
it’s knowing someone deep within.

so here i am, imagined and true,
wrapped in the ache that longs for you,
i may not have your hands in mine,
but in this dream, we intertwine.

and maybe someday, this won't just be,
a fantasy my mind set free,
maybe love, as soft as this,
will live beyond the lips i miss.
  

In quiet corners where the shadows play,  
A whispered touch that lingers, does not stray,  
Kisses fall like rain on skin so bare,  
Each one a story, tender, fierce, laid bare.  

They bruise the surface, yet heal deep inside,  
A sacred ache I no longer need to hide,  
For in those marks I find a strange kind of grace,  
The proof that I am enough, in this place.  

Soft flames flicker where love’s battles rage,  
Each scar a verse in my unwritten page,  
The rarest moments when I see my own skin,  
Not flawed, not broken, but whole from within.  

These kisses that bruise are not wounds to fear,  
But badges of courage, of facing what's near,  
They tell me stories of pain and delight,  
Of falling apart and rising to fight.  

To feel is to live, though it cuts like a knife,  
Each tender bruise breathes the pulse of my life,  
I trace every mark with hands that forgive,  
Learning with time, how deeply to live.  

In the mirror’s gaze, I finally choose,  
To love every ache, every kiss that bruises,  
A rare, raw moment, a truth to muse,  
Seeing my own skin as enough to use.  

A crimson line, a story etched in skin,  
The first scar I remember, where pain begins,  
Not just a wound that time would slowly close,  
But a mark that lives deep beneath my clothes.  

It whispers secrets of childhood’s fragile grace,  
A stumble, a fall, a sudden sharp embrace,  
The sting of truth caught in a moment’s flight,  
Both flesh and soul bruised in fading light.  

More than a scratch, it held a deeper weight,  
A symbol of lessons carved by fate,  
That even in hurt, there lies a way to heal,  
A quiet strength beneath what we feel.  

I trace its path with trembling hands,  
Recalling the fall, the unsteady lands,  
Where innocence cracked and shadows grew,  
And I learned that scars shape me too.  

Each line a memory, both fierce and kind,  
A map of the places I left behind,  
The first scar I remember, more than skin,  
A story of breaking and growing within.  

No masks, no lies, no veils to wear,  
Just silent truths laid painfully bare,  
Naked before myself, alone in this space,  
Facing my shadows, my own quiet face.  

The walls close in with whispered doubt,  
Echoes of fears I try to push out,  
Yet here in the stillness, I cannot pretend,  
This solitude forces me to bend.  

No audience watches, no eyes to judge,  
Just the weight of my soul as it tries to trudge,  
Through memories, pain, the good and the bad,  
The love and the loss, the happy and sad.  

I tremble with truths I keep locked tight,  
The parts unseen, hidden from light,  
Yet in this rawness, a seed begins to grow,  
A fragile strength only solitude can show.  

To be naked before myself is to truly see,  
The broken and whole, all parts of me,  
No shame, no fear, just a quiet release,  
In solitude’s arms, I find my peace.  

I hate this skin that wraps me tight,  
A cage of whispers in fading light,  
It tells me stories I want to deny,  
Yet beneath it all, I cannot lie.  

Every flaw feels sharp and deep,  
A secret wound I’m forced to keep,  
The mirror’s truth feels cruel and cold,  
A battle fought, both young and old.  

I trace the lines I wish weren’t there,  
The scars, the marks, the silent stare,  
The heaviness of what I see,  
Fighting hard to just be me.  

But still beneath this war and strife,  
Beats the quiet pulse of life,  
A stubborn heart that won’t resign,  
Though I hate this skin, it’s still mine.  

I curse the shape, the curve, the form,  
The way it bends against the norm,  
Yet in its flaws, a story grows,  
A fragile beauty only I know.  

So here I stand, torn and true,  
Fighting to love what I always knew,  
That this skin, though rough and wild,  
Holds the soul of a restless child.  

And maybe one day I’ll learn to see,  
The strength in this imperfect me,  
Till then I battle, soft and fierce,  
With a love that aches, a heart to pierce.  

I hate this skin, but in time’s design,  
I’ll find the grace that says it’s mine.  

Don’t look at me in the light,  
Where shadows fade and truths ignite,  
Where every crack and fault is seen,  
Unmasked, unguarded, raw, and keen.  

I wear my armor in the dark,  
A fragile shield, a fading spark,  
But when the dawn begins to rise,  
I shrink beneath the open skies.  

The flaws I hide, the fears I keep,  
In daylight’s gaze, they wake from sleep,  
Each trembling breath, a silent plea,  
To stay unseen, to just let me be.  

For in the light, I feel exposed,  
A vulnerable heart that’s overposed,  
A fragile soul that’s scared to show,  
The parts I’d rather no one know.  

I’m fear wrapped in a trembling frame,  
Ashamed to bear my given name,  
Wishing to hide, to disappear,  
When the world draws ever near.  

So don’t look at me in the light,  
Let me fade back into night,  
Where I can breathe, where I can heal,  
And learn to love what light reveals.  

But maybe one day I’ll stand and say,  
“I am enough, come what may,”  
Till then I plead in whispered flight,  
Don’t look at me in the light.  

There are quiet places on this skin,  
Where shame hides deep, so cold, so thin,  
Beneath the folds, beneath the seams,  
Lie whispered fears and broken dreams.  

A weight that presses, soft and slow,  
In places no one dares to know,  
The scars unseen, the bruises veiled,  
A silent story, deeply jailed.  

It lives where eyes refuse to see,  
Where judgment falls so endlessly,  
Where bodies bear the marks of pain,  
And hearts carry shame’s heavy chain.  

The touch that hurt, the words that stayed,  
The shame that time cannot evade,  
It curls in corners, tucked away,  
Yet shapes the dawn of every day.  

But in these shadows, faint and dim,  
A flicker fights, a hopeful hymn,  
That one day shame will lose its throne,  
And broken skin will find its own.  

Till then I hold these places tight,  
The quiet battles of the night,  
For where shame lives, there also grows,  
A seed of strength no one yet knows.  

I stand before the glass each day,  
A face I know, yet slips away,  
The mirror holds a fragile guise,  
But cannot catch my hidden cries.  

It shows the shape, the skin, the eyes,  
Yet misses truths beneath the lies,  
The soul that hides, the parts unknown,  
A self unseen, forever alone.  

I reach to touch the glass, to find,  
The naked truth that’s left behind,  
But what I see is only skin,  
A shadow where I should begin.  

Invisible threads pull tight inside,  
Where identity and fear collide,  
I’m lost between the seen and felt,  
A quiet ache that will not melt.  

The mirror doesn’t see me bare,  
The wounds I hide, the weight I bear,  
It only shows the outer shell,  
Not the story I cannot tell.  

Yet somewhere deep beneath this frame,  
The real me waits without a name,  
And though the glass may fail to see,  
One day I’ll find the truth of me.  

In crowded rooms where silence hums,  
I feel the stir, the rising drums,  
A trembling wave beneath my skin,  
No one noticed my goosebumps begin.  

The world moves on, so cold, so still,  
Unmoved by storms I cannot will,  
While inside me a tempest brews,  
No one noticed my goosebumps, my hues.  

A shiver dances, fierce and wild,  
Like whispers of a frightened child,  
In moments where hearts remain numb,  
I burn with feelings, silent drums.  

The air is thick, electric, thin,  
A secret fire that burns within,  
Yet eyes look past, they never see,  
The depths of this intensity.  

No one noticed my goosebumps rise,  
The trembling truth behind my eyes,  
In a world that chooses not to feel,  
My restless soul remains unreal.  

But still I hold this quiet spark,  
A fragile light within the dark,  
For in the silence, I belong,  
To feelings deep, to the unsung song.  

The warmth still lingers where you lay,  
But now your side has turned to gray,  
The sheets remember your fading trace,  
Yet here I’m left with empty space.  

The cold side of the bed now waits,  
A silent witness to love’s fates,  
Body still warm, but heart so bare,  
I reach for you, but find thin air.  

The night that held our whispered sighs,  
Now echoes with unheard goodbyes,  
Loneliness drapes its heavy thread,  
Across the cold side of the bed.  

I lie awake in aching hush,  
Your absence sharp, a sudden crush,  
The closeness gone, the silence loud,  
I drown beneath this lonely shroud.  

Memories press like winter’s chill,  
Your ghost beside me, standing still,  
I crave the touch, the warmth, the skin,  
Yet only cold remains within.  

The cold side of the bed, it tells,  
Of love once bright, of fading spells,  
And though I ache to hold you near,  
It’s only emptiness I hear.  

So here I lie in shadows deep,  
With aching heart that longs to keep,  
The warmth that slipped and now has fled,  
On the cold side of the bed.  

My skin is not a map for you to trace,  
Not a storybook for your hands to chase,  
It is no territory for you to claim,  
No playground for your selfish game.  

Each line, each curve, each mark you see,  
Belongs to the soul that longs to be free,  
Not a canvas for your wandering eyes,  
Nor a prize won by your cruel disguise.  

I am not your puzzle to decode,  
Nor a path down which you strode,  
I hold my boundaries fierce and true,  
My skin is mine, not meant for you.  

You thought you owned what you could touch,  
But I am more, I am enough,  
No longer silent, no longer small,  
I rise above your careless call.  

This body bears my sacred right,  
To say what’s wrong and what is right,  
To heal the wounds you tried to make,  
To stand unbroken for my own sake.  

My skin is not a map for you to read,  
It’s the shield I wield when I bleed,  
A fortress built from scars and pain,  
A home where I reclaim my name.  

So step away, respect my ground,  
Hear the fierce, unyielding sound,  
Of one who owns her every part,  
A body, a soul, and a fearless heart.  

Tears fall like rain upon my skin,  
A silent tide that sweeps within,  
Saltwater stories etched in streams,  
Invisible lines of shattered dreams.  

Oceans rise beneath my flesh,  
Sweat and sorrow, tangled mesh,  
Every drop a whispered plea,  
Of pain, of hope, of memory.  

Our bodies speak in tongues untold,  
In salty rivers, fierce and bold,  
The weight of heartache, joy, and strife,  
Flows through the veins of this fragile life.  

The skin remembers every fall,  
The tears that answered every call,  
Sweat that bore the endless fight,  
Etched in saltwater, day and night.  

These stories seep, unseen, unknown,  
In every pore, a truth is sown,  
A language written in quiet streams,  
Of broken hearts and fragile dreams.  

So when you see my glistening face,  
Know it holds a sacred place,  
Where oceans rise and tears align,  
For all my life is written in saltwater, mine.  

The scent of him clings like bitter glue,  
Still sticky with his goodbye, I’m bruised and blue,  
Fingers trace the ghost of where he stayed,  
A fleeting moment, then he slipped away.  

His touch, a storm that left me torn,  
A tangled web where love was worn,  
Messy echoes that never quite fade,  
A shadow cast, a soul betrayed.  

I wear his leaving beneath my skin,  
A sticky residue soaked deep within,  
The warmth that once was now turned to ice,  
A whispered goodbye paid its cruel price.  

I’m nothing but a moment in his flight,  
A fading echo in the dying light,  
Left grasping at what’s left behind,  
The sticky traces of a love unkind.  

This aftermath, a heavy cloak,  
Wrapped around me as I choke,  
On memories that cling and bind,  
Still sticky with his goodbye, I’m confined.  

Yet through the mess, I find my way,  
To heal the hurt, to face the day,  
And though his ghost may never die,  
I’ll rise again, no longer sticky with his goodbye.  

I lie draped in his absence, cold and bare,  
A body that once longed for love’s warm care,  
Now untouched, a silent hollowed space,  
Yearning for a touch, a gentle embrace.  

The nights stretch long, an endless sea,  
Where hope once flickered now ceases to be,  
A shell of longing, quiet and still,  
Giving up slowly against my will.  

I dreamed of love that would fill this skin,  
But found only shadows creeping in,  
A heart that beats, but beats alone,  
In empty rooms, a forgotten home.  

His absence drapes me like a shroud,  
A heavy silence, thick and loud,  
The ache of what was never found,  
Lies heavy here without a sound.  

Yet even in this quiet despair,  
A flicker fights beneath the wear,  
For though I lie untouched and torn,  
I hold the hope of love reborn.  

But for now I rest, resigned and still,  
Draped in absence against my will,  
A body waiting, lost and worn,  
For love to find me, to be reborn.  

I wear regret like tattered clothes,  
Layers heavy, threadbare woes,  
Each stitch a choice I cannot change,  
A path once walked, now strange and strange.  

The weight of moments carved in time,  
Decisions made, some cruel, some kind,  
Yet all of them now cling and bind,  
A fabric of the troubled mind.  

I wrap myself in silent cries,  
The echoes of forgotten lies,  
The roads that led to broken days,  
The shadows cast in endless haze.  

No thread can mend the tears I’ve made,  
No needle weave the price I’ve paid,  
The past is stitched inside my soul,  
A tapestry I cannot control.  

Yet in this cloak of heavy pain,  
A flicker burns beneath the strain,  
A hope that one day I’ll shed this guise,  
And find the strength to say goodbyes.  

Until that time, I carry on,  
Clothed in regret, but never gone,  
A soul that learns to rise, to fight,  
Beneath the layers cloaked in night.  

He touched me without knowing me,  
A shadow grasp that stole my plea,  
Fingers tracing lines I never gave,  
In silence bound, a soul to save.  

No eyes to ask, no heart to care,  
Just cold hands wrapped in empty air,  
A body taken, a spirit torn,  
Left to mend, battered and worn.  

His touch was loud but voice was mute,  
A cruel dance, a silent brute,  
Breaking trust with every hold,  
A story of pain that’s left untold.  

I wore his touch like chains unseen,  
Fighting wounds that lie between,  
The skin he crossed, the soul he tried,  
A battle fought where I almost died.  

But in the depths of shattered night,  
I found a flicker, soft and light,  
A whisper strong that calls to me,  
“I am more than what you see.”  

Though he touched without knowing me,  
I rise now fierce, unbound, set free,  
My story carved in scars and flame,  
A voice reclaimed, I speak my name.  

You never noticed my shiver,  
That trembling hush I could not deliver,  
A silent quake beneath the skin,  
A whispered ache that hid within.  

I lay beside you, cold and bare,  
Longing for a tender care,  
But your eyes passed over me,  
Missing what I could not see.  

In moments meant for closeness deep,  
I felt a numbness start to creep,  
A void where warmth should softly glow,  
An emptiness you’d never know.  

My body spoke in quiet tones,  
Of longing locked in hollow bones,  
Yet you never reached to hear,  
The shiver wrapped in silent fear.  

Invisible in love’s embrace,  
Lost within that empty space,  
I shivered still, alone, unseen,  
A ghost within what might have been.  

If only you had felt the stir,  
Of fragile heart that chose to blur,  
Maybe then my shiver’s plea,  
Would finally break through to thee.  

There are places deep beneath my skin,  
Where his absence cuts sharper than sin,  
Where love should live, but never came,  
A hollow space, a quiet flame.  

His hands grazed over surface walls,  
Ignoring the depths where silence calls,  
The parts that yearned to be held tight,  
Were left alone in endless night.  

The places he never touched, they ache,  
A ghostly void no warmth could make,  
More painful than the wounds we see,  
Are spaces left where love should be.  

I waited there in aching hope,  
For gentle hands to help me cope,  
But coldness ruled the empty rooms,  
Where tenderness met silent tombs.  

His love was absence wrapped in skin,  
A hollow song that sings within,  
Reminding me that what we lack,  
Can hurt far more than what we stack.  

So I hold these untouched places near,  
The quiet hurt, the hidden tear,  
And learn to heal where love withdrew,  
In places he never touched, but knew.  

Between us lies a quiet space,  
A silence filled with gentle grace,  
Where words fall short, and cannot reach,  
But skin and soul begin to teach.  

No need for voice, no spoken sound,  
In tender touch, our truths are found,  
Each breath, a language soft and clear,  
A wordless dance when you are near.  

The curve of neck, the brush of hand,  
Conversations no one planned,  
A story told without a phrase,  
In lingering looks and subtle ways.  

Our bodies speak what hearts cannot,  
In silent vows and whispered thought,  
A sacred space where feelings blend,  
Where touch becomes both means and end.  

Though words may falter, fade, or stray,  
The silence between us will always stay,  
A tender realm where love is spun,  
A quiet song, forever sung.  

He touched me without my say,  
A silent theft that stole away,  
Not just the skin, but sacred ground,  
Where trust and safety once were found.  

The weight of hands I could not fight,  
Lingers still in darkest night,  
A body marked by shadowed pain,  
That whispers secrets in the rain.  

I try to reclaim what’s mine,  
To draw new lines, to redefine,  
But ghosts of that unasked touch,  
Still haunt my skin, hurt so much.  

The mirror shows a fragile frame,  
A soul that aches but bears no name,  
Trapped between the then and now,  
Learning slowly to heal somehow.  

Though scars run deep and shadows press,  
I hold my truth, I will confess,  
This body is my own to keep,  
Even if the wounds still seep.  

One day I'll stand, unbound, unbent,  
And rise from all that was consent,  
Till then I breathe, I fight, I fight,  
To find my strength, my stolen right.