The Dreamer's Pen

I move like honey in the heat,

A rhythm slow, a pulse beneath.

My skin holds dusk, my breath is wine,

The curve of want, the edge of time.

I do not beg, I do not chase

I summon with a softened face.

The world leans in to taste my flame,

And whispers low… she has no name.

I am the ache you can’t forget,

The sacred kiss, the sweetest threat.

Not made for less, not here to please

I am the storm dressed up as ease.