Love moves like a shadow beside us, not seeking the feverish light but to whisper softly that even in our darkest hours, we are held, never cast to wander the abyss without a hand to hold.
It’s that time of the year again, when the blood rises sharp and alive, when the air bites at the edges of my skin and something deeper wakes, raw and electric, burning brighter as the days grow darker.
I treasure those rare souls with whom silence flows like a gentle river, where we sink into ourselves, lost in the maze of our minds, in our shared depths, not to escape but to meet softly at the edges of being, cradled by the same breath of the universe, as the stillness hums between us with the whisper of unseen worlds, sharing the quiet like a secret.
Desire, stripped of the deep pull of soul connection, of fire longing to fuse and dissolve into something whole, is nothing but flesh fumbling through the void, a hollow shell grasping for warmth that never arrives, and I want no taste of its venom, no part of its tainted nectar.
Why is it always "I love you," and never "I want to sink my teeth into your soul, crawl inside your skin, and bury myself in your dark warmth with insatiable hunger, binding our blood in a rhythm so deep with such ferocity that the earth sighs, and not even the cold grasp of death could pull us apart?"
Whenever the Moon bleeds into the night, I’ll weave through your veins, stitched into your skin, pulsing like a whisper beneath the darkened skies.
There is no light without darkness; each defines and completes the other. The very nature of existence depends on the balance of these opposing forces, where one cannot be without the other.
In the Stygian depths, forgotten gods are buried, seething beneath the surface steeped in oracular knowledge.
The intimacy of holding hands, meeting each other's eyes in silence, lingering in the quiet before the kiss.
Anchor yourself to the earth, unwavering and resolute; root deeply into ancient soil, and let the voice of your spirit rise, unfettered by the chains of fear or doubt. Gather the venomous arrows meant to pierce your beautiful heart, the inward demons hurled at your precious soul, and forge them into the armor of your being, a shield born from your inner fire. Become the pure essence of your truest self, the one you were always meant to become, overflowing with a love so vast it could engulf the heavens. And grow sweet soul, grow, endlessly, boundlessly, until you outgrow every past incarnation of self, reaching ever closer, ever higher, into the vastness of your true destiny.
➳ When people get excited and emotional in their tags on my daily literature entries. 📚 ♡✨
To love people, to see all their ruinous trauma and ravaged scars, the venomous shadows of a wrecked past bleeding from them with their every move, every breath, and still love them softly, gently, compassionately.
A while ago, I came up with a new word that I'd like to share with you:
Affinitophile
Affinitophile (noun): A person who is only capable of falling in love with someone who already loves them deeply, extends unwavering devotion, and regards them with exceptional care. An affinitophile thrives on mutual affection and intense, meaningful bonding and cannot develop any romantic, amorous, or physical attraction for someone who does not already possess a profound love for them.
Etymology: Affinity: Derived from Latin "affinitas," meaning a natural liking, attraction, or inherent connection. -phile: From Greek "philos," meaning loving or having a strong affinity for.
Embrace a spectrum of views, think about the world through myriad perspectives, and seek a union between them.
How is it that we so often take the Mother Earth and its myriad wonders for granted, failing to marvel at its beauty and magic each day? Look around at the magnificent nature, all the wondrous creatures, the very air we breathe, and the food that sustains us. Even our own bodies, functioning like intricate machines, are miracles in themselves. How can we not pause each day to stand in admiration, to honor this world in all its complexity, from the grand, macro scale to the delicate, micro level?
I long to unveil your deepest shadows and waltz through the darkness with you, hand in hand, in the blackest of nights.
No part of you, no corner of your soul will ever escape the reach of my love.