She lay on the white sheets like someone who surrenders to the sea without resistance. The warm afternoon light caressed her bare skin, painting it soft gold.
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Yall always ask me how I stay strong… but nobody wants to hear this part.
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When a woman is aroused, it means her body is opening to receive a deeply rich and luxurious experience. If she is healed, that arousal becomes more intense, more alive, more flowing through every layer of her being. That luxurious experience is something only her masculine energy can truly give her.
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“You ask me where that girl went; the one who laughed without regrets.
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You're going to forget me. That's a fact. You will stop thinking of me, remembering my kisses, recognizing my smell. Your gonna let me through. Maybe as fast as you let me go.
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Here you have me... Nervous... But also anxious... Curious... But also a little scared... And I know it... If he gave me over to you...
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In life not everyone comes to stay. Some appear for a season, others last a little longer.. and a few become a root.
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This is a reminder to you that I am one of those who are willing to listen to your story without any judgement or invalidating it. I do not know what you are going through right now, and I do not know how to make you feel better. But I want you to know that I am willing to sit with you somewhere, and we can talk about what you feel until your chest no longer feels heavy.
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When a woman meets the man who has been her partner not just in this life but in the eternal journey of her soul, the union transcends words. This is no ordinary connection—it is the reunion of two energies, never separated by time, distance, or circumstances, but simply waiting.
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"Let them be unkind. Let them gossip with those dry little mouths and dead little eyes, as if saying your name with enough venom might somehow make their own reflection less unbearable. Let them pick you apart in fragments, your face, your choices, your body, your history, your survival, your joy, because hollow people always become obsessed with anyone who is still whole. That is the first truth, ugly and undressed: cruelty is so often the perfume of self-hatred. People who feel clean inside do not spend their evenings rolling around in somebody else’s dirt.
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Perhaps we were not written kindly— Not in ink that lovers keep;
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