Who wore it better? #PedoPals

I’m finished with The pomp and pageantry. Give me the Old growth cedars The deer and wolves Bears and more Of the old growth forests. The small accounts. The genuine people. The sincere hearts. The rest, keep them all. Growing inward. Tight packs. Small circles. New religion.

Waking, later than usual. Too hungry. Too unsettled. Head foggy as if still dreaming. Still waiting. Still wanting. All the things between you and me.

They adored each other deeply, in a nearly blasphemous kind of way. But, they both knew that sometimes adoration is nearly never enough.

Cramped, confined, complicated, this heart of mine.

Some ghosts Are light They lift Us up. Enlighten us. But some Are not. Some are just Heavyweights. They pull Us under. They anchor us In the past Or to things we’ve done. To the people we were. Sometimes We only learn Which are which After it’s too late.

We can not control How others perceive us. They will either accept Their own experience Or fall in with what Whispers fall upon them. All we can do is live In our own ways, the best we can. Others will embrace us or not and we need to accept that too.

All the things that go unsaid have a weight to them. Some heavier. Some lighter. All waiting to be rediscovered.

I want nothing more Than your Sunsets Or Sunrises And All the in between. Hands knotting In silence Or vocal and obscene.

The kind of connection that seems to have endured on repeat. The kind of intimacy that could be silent, could be so close that air can’t pass. The kind of tethering that the bodies of the two can communicate by sight, by touch. A love affair, infinitely.

I wish I could be in a decaying orbit around you,on a slow, deliberate collision course.

Sometimes people aren't who you think they are. And sometimes, people are exactly who you wish they weren't.

A bloodletting, letting ghosts go.

if there’s one thing about fate, it t vv i s t s… ✨

You ask me Why But maybe The real question Ought to be Why not?

sometimes the heart is a phantom limb

don’t think for a second that a dagger doesn’t dream of becoming a vvand…✨

there vvere dozens of disembodied voices, and each one begged to come closer…✨

Just like that, she was killing me a bit more each day. Slowly. Magically. Wonderfully. So much so that I never even saw death coming until it was far too late and all I could do was smile.

I may or may not Be a minor threat. I could or could not be That loss you’ll regret.

It’s Friday So I’ll take Just a little time To fall away Inside myself Into the darkness Of my mind. I wonder if I’ll find you there Waiting on My touch. The way I’m Longing to Find yours there Never getting enough.

If I’m being completely honest, I would be more than fine drinking whiskey, holding hands and talking with you by the fire in the twilight. And I don’t care who knows it.

a light so intuitive no paths or maps needed to find it no words or form needed to define it only a gentle return back home, to warmth

Part the sea to know what treasures of the deep remain hidden; part my ribs to discover what is priceless within me

I’ve tried to forget you A thousand time or more Yet my heart just can’t Let the memories be.

Give me all the depth. The kind that knots its fingers in my hair. The kind that guides me, the kind that rides me, in the middle of the night. The kind that encourages me to be boisterous, to be vocal, even in broad daylight.

so often, it's been the smallest of things that have saved me

You would think by now At this certain level of age One could master the fine art Of just looking the other way. But magnetism, like gravity Has a nature all its own So here one finds one’s self Ever drawn back, wherever I may roam.

Two poets Falling into Falling for Each other Will most Certainly Result in A romantic Erotic And eventual Tragic tale.

Let the colours you show be true, let me see into you

😏🖕🏻🥰

the love you have at your fingertips why do you not use it why do you sit in silence when you could make music

This could be us, but your mixed signals are off putting.

It’s not in me to lie More than wanting to see you In the light In the flesh I long to see you through your eyes. Even if only to lift you up So you might realize those things one Might regard as flaws Are just parts of your brilliant disguise I’ve never met a goddess I didn’t recognize.

Vintage Valentine

On the outskirts In the dark No windows Nor walls. Only courses To ponder To plot The higher one gets The longer the fall.

This entanglement we’re caught up in has been going on between us in every lifetime we’ve ever known. There’s no way to reason it won’t continue on and on, just so.

🤷🏼

Her eyes are Of the moon, My heart Is of the wolf.

with you, I want to

I’m finding myself wanting badly to be defiantly unsafe with you.

I wonder if the air Moves differently Seems heavier Or maybe lighter Carries more heat Or pushes deeper chills Now that I’m gone From your proximity Am I now nothing at all Or do you remember me, still. Things considered, that will ever go; Unanswered.

That little triangle that aligns with the points her clavicle makes. It’s like a small and secret altar, where worshipping a goddess ought to take place.

We could blossom. We could burn. As long as it’s together No need to discern.

Oh, to be caught up so deeply in the delirium of our long term entanglement, I fail to see the cues and consequences falling all around us. My hands, yours. Your body,mine. Mine,yours in kind. We are bound again and again. One flesh.One heart.Two souls. Mated in every lifetime gone and yet to come.

There is no disappointment to be found where expectation was never rooted.

Craving new connections Alliances and dalliances anew. Anything and everything On the table, laid bare Life’s too short for less, it’s true.

@seancefiction.bsky.social There’s depth here I’m nearly certain That ought to be Explored Within, without.

Every nerve And fibre, aching For the heat Of her touch. The cold Lowly needful wanting Growing To be too much.