u/WildHoneyStatic_4224

I love it when you do that...

close the distance.

Put your mouth there…

behind my ear,

whispering words

as i become warmer.

You trace conversation slowly,

down the line of breath,

pausing where pulse gathers,

where you can see my ...peak attention.

How you pause at the curve of my waist,

and again at the space above my thigh,

near the places that notice

before language does.

That kind of closeness

that leaves no space.

I love it when you do that.

Worn wolf watches,

amber eyes

holding weather and years.

White mask marks,

dreams pass through pulled threads.

No tame cowardly reaction.

Negative. Ownership is mine.

Only known from deep rich past.

Being Quiet, Being patient,

be...coming

I am she.

Slightly edited bc I felt something deeper rise♡

​

Love me now

while I am here...

not later when memory softens my edges

Into something easier to hold.

Not aching through old photographs,

unfinished conversations,

wondering could haves ,& should haves.

Love me now,

while my laughter still fills rooms,

while my hands can still reach for yours,

across crowded tables and quiet mornings alike.

Do not wait until absence.

Do not build altars from regret.

Sit beside me...

the coffee is still warm.

Tell me the truth...

I can still hear it.

Choose tenderness...

time is a theif and

Tends to steals chances entirely.

Because love...

is not dressed in mourning.

Its dressed lavishly

lived loudly,

And is imperfectly, beautiful.

Love me me now.

While we are still here.

Love me now

while I am here...

not later when memory softens my edges

Into something easier to hold.

Not aching through old photographs,

unfinished conversations,

wondering could haves ,& should haves.

Love me now,

while my laughter still fills rooms,

while my hands can still reach for yours,

across crowded tables and quiet mornings alike.

Do not wait until absence.

Do not build altars from regret.

Sit beside me...

the coffee is still warm.

Tell me the truth...

I can still hear it.

Choose tenderness...

time is a thief and

Tends to steals chances entirely.

Because love...

is not dressed in mourning.

Its dressed lavishly

lived loudly,

And is imperfectly, beautiful.

Love me me now.

While we are still here.

Vivacious voice valueing veracity, valor, and victory; vicariously vacationing via visionary vibrations, volume, and virtue.

A strawberry bar bedazzled in pink

Vanished much faster than I could think.

Freezes right to the brain

The speed of eats is quite insane!

“Sugar-free!” I cried,

With three wrappers beside,

While the cat watched us in a blink

Delishously melt by the sink.

At 5pm sharp, the freezer sang,

a frosty siren call.

Sugar-free strawberry ice cream bars

had staged a sneaky brawl.

One leapt behind the broccoli,

one hid beneath the peas,

another posed dramatically

like dessert royalty.

I peeled one open cautiously,

pink sparkle, berry bliss...

then dropped a glob upon my dress

Such a cold, messy miss!

The dog smiled. The cat judged hard.

The freezer hummed with pride.

I stood there barefoot

with strawberry running down my side.

“So tasty,” I whispered softly,

as if that changed the scene,

while holding stick number three and wondering

what's the fun in being clean?

Saltwater bath calls

Moonlight tangled in our skin

Tides remember us

♡

River smooths skin so soft

Freshwater carries silence

Wild rice waves slowly

♡

Breath found in stillness

Body loosens stretch just right

Our souls bound for more

in every lifetime,

I think I would still find you

smoldering in the smoke and noise

starving and tierd

and choose your hand anyway.

-Tribute to Hunger Games moving me ♡

And somewhere

beneath ash, fear, and empire,

the Mockingjays response still teaches us this:

Hope...Hope is its most dangerous

when it refuses to die.

Don't you let it die. Live ♡

- Hunger Games Tribute

somewhere between them, us.

Oh this weekend calls!

Salt bath on our skin first,

Bright briney bath,

wind-tangled hair,

the sea pulling ancient aching laughter

from somewhere ancient in us.

Then later,

freshwater flowers in flow and freedom.

A quiet river holding the heat of the day at bay.

We float beneath the spring sky,

washed clean

of clocks,

noise,

everyone else.

Two of water.

Two of longing.

One adventure with you.

want chocolate? lol

I hate the waiting almost as much as I love the moment you finally appear.

The meeting commenced

beneath dripping late afternoon light,

every smile sharpened

like hidden lace stitched into the room.

You performed beautifully,

laying mendacity at our feet

dressed as a feast,

silver platters of polished concern,

goblets brimming with poisoned praise,

stinging old wounds.

Your voice carved quiet wedges between allies,

pitting pulse against pulse

beneath the civility of leather-bound agendas.

But imitation is a fragile yet fragrant perfume of bullshit.

You reach for atmospheres never born from your lungs,

mirroring warmth that did not belong to you.

I watched carefully, smiling.

Knowing I do not require your permission,

your agreement,

nor your carefully tailored version of power.

And then suddenly an interruption and technical glitch?

Ah universe, you unhurried trickster ♡ Bravo

🙇‍♀️ not worthy ;)

Joy It..and watch how it transforms ♡

Where the shore meets the sea, Tatterfin Glint’s pockets stayed full of salt and possibility. Buttons! Oh, buttons appeared after storms. Pearl buttons, brass buttons and tiny moon-shaped painted buttons were all there.

She gathered them excitedly, shouting to gulls,

“This is important sea business!" The gulls always replied, “Fineee…”

Back in her crooked driftwood shelter, she stitched buttons onto fishing line with rainbow oyster shells and crystalline pebbles; crafting wind chimes that sang in tides, clicks, and hollow laughter.

Moonlight made the buttons shimmer with scattered memories, lost songs, old wishes and forgotten names whispered by the surf.

Travelers came quietly to listen. Tatterfin never charged coin. Only stories. Each story was whispered into the buttons for safekeeping, and it was the music of each that rang beautifully through crashing waves and rising tides.

Laughter fills the air

Our voices dance through the light

joy echoes softly

This Mother’s Day,

the mimosa tree arrived

a beautiful gift, a spiritual offering.

I took the symbol into my hands

Caressing. Silently weeping.

Mimosa carries the energy of healing the heart,

softening grief,

awakening joy,

and restoring emotional balance.

Its delicate leaves fold inward at night,

teaching the sacred rhythm of

protection, rest, and reopening.

This tree grew outside my childhood window.

I've always thought this gift

from the eaeth mother

shaped me,

through ancestry

it now feels tied

to motherhood itself.

She symbolizes the quiet strength

of staying tender in a harden, calloused world.

Of providing shade, nectar and shelter.

I can't wait to see

each pink,

sweetly perfumed bloom.

This gift

feels like a blessing from the unseen,

a reminder that love,

memory,

and feminine wisdom

continue growing

long after childhood passes

and the children grow.

Happy Mothers Day ♡