🅰🅺🆂 🆂🅰🆈🆂,

I write about the desires you dare not confess, the intimacy you secretly crave, and the strangers who feel dangerously familiar.

[🅰🅺🆂 🆂🅰🆈🆂, @AskingAks]

No space left between us, no room now to breathe,
As slow and deep down into the dark we wreathe.
Let the linen forget how the silence was kept...
A single, burning wave where the midnight wept.

[Green God @iGreenGod]

Fresh bedsheets on a weeknight are a five-star hotel you never have to check out of.

[Nevaeh 💖🦋💖 @art_soulessence]

Centuries beyond light you have been in my sight

[Jeremy ...🪄🎲🥀 @TheDualToungue]

From behind,
I watched her in the mirror

Her lips parted,
her eyes lost somewhere between
pleasure and surrender.

And in that reflection,
I saw a woman forgetting
the whole world existed.

[Priyambana ✨ @PriyambanaP]

#Ghoul

A walking dead
Caught by a ghoul.

The latter shocked,
Asked, "Why do you
move, dead?"

"Can I join you to eat
the flesh of
those who made me lifeless?"

-Priyambana ✨
#vss365

[𝑨 𝑷𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓 @APoeticWhisper]

Let's build a bonfire
& snuggle up close
hide away a bit where
...no one else knows

we'll share our little secrets
let them out with the flames
...we'll look at the stars
& give them our names.

#vss365

[𝐀ⲛⲁⲙⲓⲕ𝐀 @anamikadunknown]

𝗕𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗜𝘁 𝗟𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗕𝗲 𝗔𝗿𝘁

I was born
as a crooked line
on a child's paper—
a restless little scratch
that knew nothing
of beauty,
or the names
the world would give me.

I had no frame,
no form worth preserving,
no eyes waiting to admire me.

Only the trembling freedom
of a hand
that had never been taught
what art should look like.

Then came another hand.
And another.
And another.

They traced my edges,
softened my wildness,
gave my colours depth,
my silence, meaning.

Through charcoal and clay,
through forgotten rooms
and patient afternoons,
I grew into shapes
my first maker
could never have imagined.

Centuries of fingers
seemed to live within me.

And one day,
beneath the measured lights
of a gallery,
I found myself framed,
named,
admired.

The world had finally learned
how to look at me.

Yet somewhere
beneath the varnish of my becoming,
a small, unfinished line
still trembles.

I remember the paper
that had no place for me,
the little hand
that did not know
it was making art.

How I long
to return to that beginning—
before every stroke
had to mean something,
before beauty learned
to obey,
before I became
what the world wanted to see.

To be a child's strange little scratch
once more.

Unclaimed.
Unfinished.
Entirely free.

For all the hands
that carried me into the light,
somewhere within me
lives the ache
of the first hand
that never knew
it had given me life.

—

#Anamika

[Han @UndawntdObsErvr]

The piano's missing a key—he takes
my hands and plays with me;
our broken harmony rings complete.

[Kimberly @bionicanadian]

Saturn's sphere's
serpentine's scarce zypher's,
Solemn saphire staircases,
Spireing silk stiching wonders
Scattering spirits symmetrically,
Swallowing sulphurs ciphers,
Shattering soliloquy skies.
Shimmering celestial spells.
@13thwordsmith used my prompt& pic #bionicanadian

[Verde Mar @Tetrametracall1]

#vss365 #bonfire

Kind of Real

Why am I so melancholic all the time dear diary
Fragments of us reign as if our tears know why
Each one follows a path only meant for sadness
You’ve always kept them safe for another shore.

We often middle what our heart’s fury demands
Trading time for understanding why we feel real
Between our emotional resonances love bonfires
When you remember me play Miles’ Kind of Blue.

You fire glances like whispers dream of being true
I read your poetry when my mind asks for peace
Each line wanders through everything we’ve said
Before yours let’s me go, tell me why you stayed.

#gravitywaves
📸: Sonoran desert; iPhone 16pm

[chandana @chandanas]

Driftwood #bonfire, 
fledgling sparks
climb the dark,
a poem entwined with midnight,
baring what the heart
keeps in its cobweb ribcage.

Sweat beads
at the denuded nape,
one kiss,
and the night
goes roofless.
#vss365

[LoylaReel @ReelLoyla11]

Making Love by Listening 🖤🥀

*~ Where Masculine Mastery Meets the Tender Art of Surrender ~*

There is a way he makes love
without ever touching her skin,
a masculine grace in how he listens,
how he reaches the woman deep within.

He hears the hunger beneath her silence,
the desires her lips have yet to confess,
and with the patience of a knowing heart,
he turns her longing into tenderness.

There is mastery in his attention,
a quiet command that needs no crown,
the strength to cherish her wildest nature
without asking her defenses to come down.

He does not merely awaken desire;
he nourishes the woman beneath the flame,
caressing needs she scarcely whispers,
cherishing the soul behind her name.

And how exquisitely she craves
the certainty of his masculine embrace,
the seductive warmth of being understood,
the reverence that gives her softness space.

For hers is no fragile spirit,
nor a heart so easily claimed;
yet beneath his steady devotion,
even her fiercest fires feel unashamed.

She listens beyond his spoken words,
to the tenderness his silences reveal,
the discipline beneath his strength,
the depth of everything he dares to feel.

There is something profoundly sensual
in a man attentive to her well-being,
who knows the difference between wanting her body
and cherishing the entirety of her being.

His power lives not in possession,
but in the patience of his hands,
in knowing when to draw her closer
and when to simply understand.

And there, where craving meets compassion,
where trust becomes a sacred art,
two souls discover the deepest intimacy
is making love by listening to the heart.

For her surrender is never conquered,
nor her wildness diminished by desire;
it blossoms beneath his tender mastery,
where masculine strength honors feminine fire.

And perhaps the sweetest seduction
is not the touch for which they yearn,
but the quiet grace of being cherished,
where two hearts listen, nourish, and learn.

~ Loyla

@FoxProse #FoxProse

[DawnBetweenStorms @dawn_storms9876]

Suspended between hopes and a potential reality she'd rather not take on as her story.

She wonders: How can one be patient when her hands have given all they could, and now she must sit back and wait?

Wait, somehow going on with life.

And all the while, love herself through the uncertainty,
as love itself becomes an unknown.

#vss #poem #myownwords #poetry

[Ink n Thought @herliterarysoul]

Advice is free for the giver and expensive for the receiver. Choose your counsel wisely, for wisdom is discerning, not indiscriminate.

[Kimberly @bionicanadian]

#unspoken
@13thwordsmith
@bionicanadian
#Poetry

Skies interpretation of twilight dreaming

swirling magenta and sapphire mist

sky dance of sundown

a cherry tree surveys nightfall

magic sits with...nevermore

and reverie crystals, peach rose spells!...

[Sabrina @neu_rot_ic]

Another day of making a fool of myself

[Ek kahani 🌄 @ekkahani111]

काश मुझे भी किसी ने अपनी पायल दी होती…

कुछ ख़्वाहिशें उम्र भर छम-छम करती रहती हैं। ❤️

Video credit: Instagram

[Nevaeh 💖🦋💖 @art_soulessence]

Ring collar
Leather scent aroused

One for me
One for you
Who is who

Maybe I'll lead you hard
With a spank
Maybe you'll lead me hard
With denial

Find me and find out
Who shout in excitment

Darling hear me now
So hard I vow

Ring Collar Nov 5, 2026
#WritingCommunity
#PoetryCommunity
#nsfw
#BDSM #Kink
@kinkprompt

[𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙷 @SpaklingGracias]

with you even
my everyday
feels like magic

[Nadia 🌙 @AetherLela]

O body swayed to music,
O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer
from the dance?

— W.B Yeats

Scenic Rim ⛰️

[Han @UndawntdObsErvr]

Don't turn away, look at the stars with me baby