In the hush of midnight, I drape you in silken ruin— threads of moonlight slipping over your throat like a lover’s promise, each caress a slow unraveling, where skin yields to the inevitable. My fingers trace the fracture lines, soft as forbidden sin, pulling you deeper into the ache of possession, where your gasps bloom like bruises under my tongue, sweet ruin pooling between trembling thighs. You are mine in this exquisite fall, bones singing surrender beneath the silk’s cruel grace, devoured whole by the fire we ignite— no salvation, only the velvet dark claiming what it breaks. Call me your beautiful destroyer, my love. Let the ruin feel like home.

She would never be mine… I knew that from the first day I had seen her in that old diner. She did not fit in with the rest of the clientele. Her boots alone probably cost more than what the waitress made in a year. But she had manners. That always mattered. She waited her turn

Back where we belong… Side by side