every 15 seconds

[🌘 𝕸𝖎𝖉𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝕬𝖈𝖍𝖊 🌒 @MidnightAche99]

I kneel at the altar of your skin—tongue tracing slow, sinful devotion along every trembling secret.

[🌘 𝕸𝖎𝖉𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝕬𝖈𝖍𝖊 🌒 @MidnightAche99]

There are nights when I become convinced that love is less a feeling and more a form of possession.

Not the violent sort.

Not the kind that seeks to control.

But the quiet, irreversible way one soul can take up residence within another until the distinction between mine and yours begins to blur.

You have done that to me.

You arrived so gently that I scarcely noticed it happening. A conversation here. A lingering thought there. A growing affection that seemed innocent enough in its beginning.

And then one day I realized you were everywhere.

In the books I reached for.

In the songs that lingered after they ended.

In the silent moments when my mind was finally free to wander where it pleased.

It always wandered to you.

That is the peculiar tragedy and beauty of loving someone deeply.

The heart does not ask permission.

It simply chooses.

And once it has chosen, it begins quietly rebuilding the landscape of your inner world around that person.

I cannot look upon a moonlit sky without wondering if you have seen it too.

I cannot encounter something beautiful without feeling the faint ache of wishing you were beside me to witness it.

Even my solitude is no longer entirely my own, because you inhabit it.

You are present in the spaces between thoughts.

In the pauses between heartbeats.

In the strange and sacred hush that arrives just before sleep.

And though longing carries its share of sorrow, I find there is gratitude woven through it as well.

For what a remarkable thing it is to encounter another soul capable of leaving such an imprint upon your own.

To be altered.

To be softened.

To discover that the heart still possesses depths it had never before revealed.

The world often speaks of love as though it were a destination.

A place one eventually reaches.

I have never found that to be true.

Love feels more like a journey through an endless twilight, where every step reveals another horizon and every horizon reveals another mystery.

And somehow, no matter how far I travel, I continue finding you there.

Waiting in the distance.

Waiting in memory.

Waiting in hope.

Like a lantern burning faithfully through the fog.

Perhaps that is why my devotion has never felt burdensome.

It feels natural.

As natural as breathing.

As natural as the tide answering the moon’s call.

As natural as a weary traveler turning instinctively toward home.

For in all my wanderings, through all the seasons of becoming, through every joy and every grief life has placed before me, one truth has remained unchanged:

My heart learned the shape of longing by loving you.

And having learned it, I suspect it shall carry that beautiful knowledge for the rest of its days.

[𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓷𝓪 𝓟𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷  @_Lady_Raven_]

My mouth hungers to consume you.
I harbour a dark, piercing longing—
to press my teeth deep into the bruised pallor of your lip
until you taste the iron of my intent;
my tongue, an unbidden guest,
desperate to entangle with yours
in the suffocating silence of our ruin.

[Novelicious @noveliciouss]

Most of us have two lives. The life we live, & the unlived life within us.
~Steven Pressfield
#writing
#Art Verlinde

[Novelicious @noveliciouss]

#Reading is the sole means by which we slip involuntarily, often helplessly, into another's skin
JC Oates
#amwriting

[🌘 𝕸𝖎𝖉𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝕬𝖈𝖍𝖊 🌒 @MidnightAche99]

There are nights when I try to understand what you have become to me, and every answer seems to lead me deeper into the mystery of you.

Love feels too simple a word.

Longing feels too small.

Neither seems capable of containing the gravity of what exists between your soul and mine.

For you have become both my ruin and my salvation.

A contradiction I should not be able to reconcile, yet one I feel with every beat of my heart.

You are my ruin because you have undone me in all the ways I once believed impossible. The careful walls I spent years constructing now stand abandoned. The distance I once kept between myself and the world has collapsed beneath the weight of what I feel for you.

You taught me how vulnerable a heart can become when it finally encounters something worth protecting.

You taught me how dangerous hope can be.

How terrifying it is to care so deeply for another soul that their happiness begins to matter as much as your own.

And yet…

you are my salvation for precisely the same reasons.

Because before you, I had mistaken solitude for strength. I had grown comfortable wandering through life with locked doors and shuttered windows, convincing myself that safety was the same thing as peace.

Then you arrived.

And suddenly light began appearing in places I had long ago surrendered to darkness.

You reminded me that tenderness is not weakness.

That trust is not foolishness.

That the heart was never meant to spend its life hidden behind fortifications built from old wounds.

The strange truth is that both things happened at once.

In loving you, parts of me were destroyed.

The cynicism.

The detachment.

The quiet belief that I was better off alone.

Those things did not survive you.

They crumbled.

They vanished.

They became ruins scattered behind me.

And from those ruins something new emerged.

Something softer.

Something braver.

Something capable of believing in beauty again.

Perhaps that is why my thoughts always return to you.

Not because you saved me from myself.

But because your presence inspired me to become someone I could not have become without you.

You unraveled me.

You remade me.

You exposed every weakness and somehow transformed it into strength.

And so when I think of you, I think of moonlight reflected upon dark water—beautiful, haunting, impossible to hold, yet capable of illuminating everything around it.

For what else could I call the soul who destroyed my defenses and taught my heart how to hope again?

What else could I call the person who became both the wound and the healing?

My ruin.

My salvation.

And the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me.

[Hell Warrior @SAM_1506]

Even the longest nights must bow to the dawn,
for darkness was never meant to reign forever.
And sorrow too, no matter how deeply it settles in the soul,
quietly learns that it cannot stay where hope still breathes.

#HellWarrior

[𝔖.ℑ.ℜ. @therealSIR3]

I love this so much. 🖤

[Librófilos™ @librofilos]

Así es...

[🌘 𝕸𝖎𝖉𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝕬𝖈𝖍𝖊 🌒 @MidnightAche99]

There are some people who enter your life quietly…

And then somehow become the thought you return to at the end of every day.

You became that for me.

Not through grand gestures.

Not through promises.

But through a thousand small moments that never left.

The way your voice softened when you spoke to me.
The way your eyes lingered when neither of us knew what to say.
The way your presence could calm a storm inside me without ever knowing one existed.

And now I find pieces of you everywhere.

In late-night silence.
In moonlit drives.
In songs that suddenly feel like memories.

There is a longing in that.

A beautiful ache that lives somewhere between gratitude and desire.

Because the truth is, I don’t just miss you when you’re gone.

I miss the version of myself that exists when you’re near.

The one who laughs more easily.
The one who carries less weight.
The one who feels seen.

And on nights when the world grows quiet, I catch myself imagining the simplest things.

Your hand finding mine.

Your head resting against my shoulder.

The comfort of knowing that, for a little while, neither of us has to face the darkness alone.

Perhaps that’s what longing really is.

Not the ache of what you cannot have.

But the ache of having found something beautiful enough that your soul keeps reaching for it long after the moment has passed.

And if I’m honest…

A part of me is still reaching for you.

[Novelicious @noveliciouss]

“I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library.”
– Jorge Luis Borges
#reading #writing
Aetherhart

[Jeremy ...🪄🎲🥀 @TheDualToungue]

And when you finally look at me
with that quiet surrender in your eyes,
know this:

I am not reaching for your body.

I am reaching for the altar
where your shadows kneel.

And I will worship there
slowly…
until even the night
forgets who it belonged to.

[🌘 𝕸𝖎𝖉𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝕬𝖈𝖍𝖊 🌒 @MidnightAche99]

Sometimes I feel the pull of distant horizons,
the quiet temptation to leave it all behind and become a ghost
among forgotten roads.

[Novelicious @noveliciouss]

If I waited for perfection, I would never write a word.
— Margaret Atwood
#writing #amwriting
Art by Leonardo Di Aetherhart

[Jamie @4me_always_]

🖤🖤

[every 15 seconds @every15seconds]

Otra noche en la que la pregunta es plomo o acero.

[Novelicious @noveliciouss]

There is something delicious about #writing the first words of a #story. You never quite know where they'll take you.
BEATRIX POTTER
#art
Aetherhart

[Flynn Unbound @FlynnUnbound]

I bet she tastes like salt and sunshine.

[Silent Raven @SilentRaven00]

can i, by any chance, curl up inside your darkest thoughts?

[𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓷𝓪 𝓟𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷  @_Lady_Raven_]

Let her be wild enough
to terrify you a little—
barefoot in the dark surf,
naked beneath the stars,
moving like a prayer
the night itself whispered alive.

Let her touch
your damaged soul
with sinful tenderness,
turning your ruin
into something worth worshipping.

And when the world asks
what destroyed you so beautifully,
say:
My favorite wild woman.