Through Her Thirst

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When I kiss her,
I kiss her through her thirst—
not just the hunger of her lips,
but the longing buried deep within her bones,
the silent ache of seasons unspoken,
the warmth she hides from the world.

My heart becomes a prayer,
a vessel open and wide,
holding her love like sacred water.
I stretch my soul into a bowl
to cradle her fragile, radiant light.

I kiss her through her flaws—
the scars where pain once dwelled,
the sunken cheeks, the delicate bones,
the fragments of her broken dreams,
the shadows dancing in her quiet eyes.

I press my lips through her sorrows,
through her silent cries,
and within her darkness
I find the shining core of her essence.

My truest kiss rises from the purest part of me—
the calmest, most innocent light,
a flicker of life that trembles and falls,
a single tear offered freely,
a drop of my very soul.

To love her with a heart overflowing,
eyes shimmering with tears—
what a sacred, beautiful surrender.

Through endless ages,
I have searched for her—
the root of my universe,
the water that makes me flow,
the earth that grounds my being.

I melt into her heart,
and in her embrace,
she carries the weight of worlds—
the empire of her passions,
the kingdoms of her love,
surrendered into my hands.

To kiss her—
I learn to see her as the most precious dream,
hidden deep within the mine of my soul,
the eternal jewel waiting to be discovered.





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