In the quiet of night, when the world hushes its clamor and the stars gather to witness our secrets, I find myself tracing the contours of memory. There are things I can’t unread, etched into my senses like whispered confessions. Skin, oh, how it speaks! Beneath my fingertips, it unravels stories—the delicate script of longing and desire. Each ridge, each curve, a chapter waiting to be explored. It’s like Braille, a language of touch that transcends mere sensation. I read you there, my fingers deciphering the map of your existence—the rise and fall of your breath, the hidden scars, the … Continue reading Poetry of the night

If I insist in your mouth, in your prayer,Do not mistake my fervor for impatience.I am not a beggar, but a gardener tending fragile blooms.Take good care of me, as you would a delicate secret. Guardian of Whispers I am the echo that lingers in sacred spaces,The hushed syllables that cling to your breath.When you speak my name, do so with reverence—For I am woven into the fabric of your longing. The Art of Holding Back Let not the longing seep through your fingers,Like sand slipping from an open palm.We are custodians of moments, guardians of memories—And sometimes, love thrives … Continue reading If I Insist