Deep End

You didn’t fall —
you swam in slow.
Wave after wave,
without a name.

Not to hold,
not to stay —
just to feel
how deep I go.

You moved like heat
through chlorined blue,
a kiss like salt,
a truth half-true.

But I —
I was never here
to be claimed
or conquered.

I came
to touch the silence
beneath the noise,
to meet the part of me
that never asked to be chosen —
only to be free.

The deep does not beg.
It does not bind.
It opens.
It holds.
And then —
it lets go.

I swam there.
I wept there.
And I rose,
salt-skinned
and sovereign.

Tiefenblau

Ich bin nicht hier,
um hart zu werden.

Ich bin hier,
um mich weich
zu erinnern.

An die Tiefe,
die mich hält.
An das Wasser,
das mich kennt.

Ich muss nicht wissen,
wohin es geht —
nur fühlen,
wo es
weit wird.

Ich breite meine Arme aus —
nicht um zu greifen,
sondern
um zu empfangen.

Some things

Some things
don’t need to be named.

They just arrive —
like morning mist,
like silence
between two souls
who know.

Today
I remembered
how soft it feels
to want nothing
from the world —

only to be seen,
gently,
without effort.

Not for what I do.
Not for what I carry.

But for who I am
when I
let go.

Unravel Me

Don’t undress me.
Unravel me.

With breath.
With weight.
With the kind of stillness
that makes my knees forget the floor.

Touch me
like a man who’s been here
for lifetimes —
who knows every place
I never let them find.

Don’t reach for my body.
Enter me
where I’m already open.

Where I ache with knowing.
Where I pulse with memory.
Where I’ve waited
without waiting
for you.

Claim me
not with pressure —
but with presence.

Not with noise —
but with that holy quiet
that only lives
between our ribs
when your chest
covers mine.

Arrival

People pass.
So do promises, touches,
and the names I once whispered like
prayers.

Not all departures were loud.
Some faded like songs
I only noticed
once the silence came.

But then —
there was you.
Steady in your presence,
quiet in your knowing.

The illusions fell,
but you remained.
Unfolding.
Rooted.
True.

Milk & Honey

There was a time
when love came in sun-warmed hands
and straw held more than words could say.

Then came silence,
rules, and names I didn’t choose —
but something soft stayed behind.

She’s still there,
crowned in hay,
not broken,
just waiting
for the one who stays.

Unveiled

What once hid in shadow
now rises in ease.

The parts I thought would flee
choose to stay —

letting me touch
what I once
feared to feel.

No defense.
No retreat.

Just presence —
quiet,
soft,
and real.

All of You

I have been touched
by hands that held no heart —
grasping without depth,
gripping without soul.

And I have been held
by hearts that trembled like birds,
too gentle to land,
too fleeting to stay.

I have danced with power
disguised as love,
and love
disguised as softness.

But now,
I ask for neither echo nor illusion.

I call in the one
whose gaze stays steady
when I soften —
whose spine does not tremble
at the weight of truth.

I do not seek fire that devours,
nor comfort that forgets to lead.

I seek the flame that holds,
builds,
and keeps its word
even when the night grows long.

I have walked with what was almost.
I have carried what others could not.

Now —
I open
to what arrives
whole.

Not in fragments.
Not in shadow.
But with breath,
with spine,
with all of you.

What If

What if we met again
as if for the first time —
not with memory,
but with wonder?

No past to carry,
no silence to bridge,
just the pull of something
that never really left.

What if your eyes found mine
and forgot what we never said —
but remembered
what the body whispered
when the world fell away?

What if the air between us
held something tender and near —
like breath,
like prayer,
like the space that only opens
when everything becomes clear?

And if your hand found mine —
not out of habit,
but in perfect time —
would the ground between us
open again
like a rhythm,
like a sign?

Would something in me
still stir at the sound of your voice —
not for what it was,
but for what it calls forth now?

And what if we didn’t go back,
but forward —
not to repeat,
but to root
into something quiet
and finally
real?

What if we met again
not to return,
but to begin —
more honest,
more open,
more undone
than ever before?

Sovereign Veins

They called it order.
I called it silence.
Behind the treaties,
beneath the gold —
my voice began to remember
what theirs forgot.

They rebranded what they once condemned.
Changed the name,
kept the game.
But I no longer fold myself
to fit their frames.

Where they saw risk,
I traced the thread.
While they measured loss,
I mapped what could remain.

They muted the page.
I became the ink.
Not to fight —
but to hold.
Not to shout —
but to shape.

Untamed

You move like something ancient —
not tamed,
not trained,
but deeply known.

You don’t perform.
You are.

A storm contained in skin.
A decision made in silence.
A man who doesn’t ask for surrender —
but creates the ground
where it happens.

You speak in gestures.
You claim without noise.
And when you look,
you don’t search —
you see.

The world may call you wild.
I call you true.

Because in your presence,
I unravel.
Not to fall apart —
but to become
more woman
than I knew I was.

Still Love

What if love never left?
What if it simply waited —
for the version of you who could receive it?

The one who knows how to rest.
How to soften.
How to hold her own gaze without turning away.

Love is not always a spark.
Sometimes it’s the space that remains.

Come Undone

Don’t come polished —
come undone.
Not the gold,
but where you run.

Let your words wear no perfume,
let silence shape what dares to bloom.

I do not seek perfection’s face —
I crave the truth,
in its own pace.

Let your presence rise uneven,
like a moon not always seen.
Let your voice shake —
if what it speaks
has roots beneath the green.

I will not flinch at what is raw,
nor bind you in a sculpted law.
Only masks will make me flee —
the soft unknown?
That’s home for me.

So stand — not tall, but real and near.
No armor.
No design.
Just here.

For what I want
is not your shine…
but the soul you thought
you had to hide.

Future Vow

You will not find me in the rush,
nor in the chase of fleeting gold.
I live in the quiet places —
where meaning lingers, and love takes hold.

I’m not seeking fireworks,
but a hearth that stays warm.
A man whose word is shelter,
whose gaze becomes form.

Let your presence be the pillar,
and mine, the sacred space.
Together — not in noise,
but in unshakable grace.

I’ll meet you not in stories told,
but in the life we choose to write —
hand in hand,
with roots below
and stars in sight.

Sacred Shelter

I will not bloom in the storm.
I am not a fire to be tamed.
But in your stillness, in your gaze —
I become the flame.

Let your hands be the home where I rest.
Let your voice be the calm in my chest.
Not because I need saving,
but because
you know how to stay.

Devotion

Let it not be loud —
this love we make.
Let it be steady,
sacred,
unshakably awake.

Let us meet in the space
where words are few,
but presence stays —
and the silence says:
I choose you.

Weil du warst

Deine Worte —
leicht wie Morgenküsse,
dein Schweigen —
ein Raum,
in dem ich nicht glänzen musste,
nur sein.

Manchmal warst du nur ein Duft,
ein Lächeln durch Glas,
ein sanftes Wecken
inmitten von Alltag.

Du hast mich gehalten,
in Zärtlichkeit,
in Aufmerksamkeit,
in Leichtigkeit.

Und dafür
verneigt sich mein Herz
in stiller Dankbarkeit.

Nicht,
weil es endlos war —
sondern weil es einen Anfang in mir fand.

In Between

You came like dusk upon the shore —
no name, no need… just something more.

You moved like breath the wind forgot,
and stirred a hush I never sought.

You touched me — not to leave a trace,
but to reshape the very space.

No storm, no claim, no aching song —
just presence brief… but soul-long strong.

Not all who come are meant to stay —
some arrive to light the inward way.

Unbound

I fell from hands that named me wrong,
and rose through ash to write my song.

My bloodline spoke in silent chains —
I broke them soft, through sacred pain.

I held my breath where temples bled,
and stitched my worth in threads unsaid.

I was the storm they never saw —
the hush between their curse and law.

I carved my altar from their shame,
and dared to dance without a name.

Silk & Ash

Power once draped me like silk —
until your fire made it ash.

I wore the night like a velvet crown,
but craved the hand that laid it down.

My name was known,
my grace rehearsed —
but your gaze cracked
the gilded verse.

You moved like smoke in satin rooms,
where silence bloomed
and truth resumed.

Not all who touch me leave a mark —
but you lit a fire,
then walked the dark.

I kissed the game and bowed to none…
but once,
with you,
I wept —
and called it love.