21,M
Welcome to my blog..
These are all written by me.....
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@itachi6756
21,M
Welcome to my blog..
These are all written by me.....

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Come here… replace the air in my lungs with you..
Come closer… I don’t want air anymore. I want you to fill every breath I take...
let me live on nothing but you... 😭
~itachi6756
I asked God for a glass,
just one…
something I could hold gently,
something that could carry my thirst,
my love,
my lonely little heart.
And I waited.
God knows how long I waited.
While others drank happiness with both hands,
I stood there empty,
looking at the sky like a child
waiting for mercy.
Then one day,
God finally placed a glass in my hands.
But it was broken.
Cracked from edge to edge,
sharp enough to wound,
fragile enough to shatter completely
if I held it too tightly.
And I remember smiling anyway.
Because after waiting for so long,
even pain looked like a blessing.
I told myself,
“Maybe I can fix it”
“Maybe love means bleeding quietly”
“Maybe broken things deserve love too”
So I held it carefully.
I tried to mend every crack with my bare hands.
But the more I tried,
the deeper it cut me.
My fingers bled first.
Then my heart did.
And the cruelest part is…
I never hated the glass.
I only hated the feeling
that if I let it go,
I might never receive another one again.
So now I sit here,
hands covered in invisible wounds,
asking myself questions
that keep me awake at night
Do I keep holding this broken glass forever
just because it was given to me?
Do I continue bleeding
just because I once begged God for it?
And if this is the only glass written in my fate…
am I supposed to die protecting the thing
that keeps hurting me?
Maybe the saddest thing about love
is not the breaking.
Maybe it’s loving something so much
that you start believing
your pain is the price
for being allowed to hold it.
And honestly…
I still don’t know what hurts more
the cuts in my hands,
or the fear
that putting the glass down
might mean losing love forever.
~itachi6756
She once said
she wanted love—
someone who would cross oceans for her.
But I…
I did not cross the ocean—
I drowned in it.
My love for her dragged me under,
tide after tide;
breath after breath
lost somewhere between hope and heartbreak.
She said she was giving me wings,
but she was holding me underwater,
and I—
I willingly sank.
I knew what she was doing.
I knew every wave was meant to break me.
And still…
I stayed.
You never saw me bleed.
But there was blood—
and it was mine.
It burned like fire,
hurt like hell.
The ocean turned red with everything I gave,
and you—
my beloved—
you never saw a thing.
Because you were
color blind.
There are moments I wish I could tell you… forget what hurt you before, and come to me instead.
Please choose me !!!!!
Come with me, my beloved !!!!
And Let me love you in the way you’ve always deserved to be loved...

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Tell me, dear readers—
Why does it ache
to care for someone
more than you care for your own breath?
Why does love feel like a wound
you never stop pressing?
Tell me,
why do we bleed
for those who never asked for our blood?
For those who turn away
when we’re breaking open?
They don’t see love—
they see red.
It’s red.
It’s blood.
It’s mine.
And it spills quietly,
in the silence between words,
in the spaces where we once believed
we were enough.
It doesn’t make sense, does it?
How loving someone
can feel like dying slowly—
softly—
without anyone noticing.
She, My Salvation
Her eyes—
they hold no mercy for me,
two storms disguised as silence,
and I drown willingly.
She kills—ruthless,
without a weapon, without a word,
just the slow rise of her lashes,
the quiet tremble of breath
before she speaks my name.
I am in love with her—
with the melancholy carved in her gaze,
with the way she brushes hair behind her ear
like a soft ritual of breaking me,
with the curve of her lips
that shapes my name into a prayer
and a punishment.
Every glance,
every fleeting smile,
every second of her presence—
they cut me open and leave me wanting
more of the wound.
She is merciless,
and still, I kneel—
a servant to her unspoken magic,
to the ruin she paints on my chest
with just a look.
She, my salvation.
And I—
I am the man who dies
a little more every time she turns away,
and lives again
the moment she looks back.
Everyone carries their own wounds,
Each trying to heal in silence.
But mine—
they’ve long healed on the surface,
while inside,
they bleed like the day she left.
Sometimes I scratch those wounds,
just to feel something—
some pain,
some trace of her touch,
the cruel mercy
of my merciless goddess.
Even the scars now
have curved themselves into her name.
Sometimes, no blood comes out.
Perhaps even my blood is tired—
tired of remembering,
tired of loving,
tired of living.
Or maybe
I am already dead—
a corpse
that forgot how to bleed,
but still remembers
how to ache.
The wound still hurts,
the love still burns,
her absence still whispers
like a ghost that never sleeps.
Perhaps this pain
was meant to stay—
a monument of her,
etched into what’s left of me.
And so I remain—
a corpse that still feels,
still longs,
still loves her.
Sometimes I think —
if I could cry every tear
that was once meant for love in your name,
maybe I’d melt into the air,
free, like a flame set loose.
I wonder —
will you come to see my funeral?
Will you stand there quietly,
the way you used to when words failed you?
Will you cry?
I always wondered —
if I died,
would tears ever find their way to your eyes?
Would you feel anything?
Even for a moment?
Oh, my love —
my salvation, my sin.
The truth is,
I died the day you left me.
Everything after that
was just the body pretending to live.
Still, I wish…
if you do come,
don’t leave without crying.
Let at least one tear fall,
for the love that couldn’t live,
but found peace in dying.
— 6:00 A.M.
They’re calling me now.
The fire waits.
And I… I am no longer afraid.
I want to be everything you need
The breath that fills your lungs, the beat that feeds
Your heartbeat, your soul, your every part
The warmth that chases cold, the love that heals your heart
The water that quenches your thirst, the taste that lingers on
The food that nourishes, the love that's never gone
The road that leads you home, the path that's true
The shelter from life's storms, the roof that's over you
The slippers that warm your feet, the comfort that's real
The presence that soothes, the love that you can feel
I want to be the one you turn to, the one you adore
The everything that makes you whole, the love that you've been looking for
But what if I'm just a dream, a fleeting thought
A moment's peace, a lifetime's sorrow brought
What if I'm just a whisper, a gentle breeze
That touches your skin, but can't bring you to your knees?
Oh, to be the air you breathe, the love that you need
To be the one who brings you peace, the one who heals your every need.

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July 5th
(I don’t even know why I’m writing this… maybe just to breathe)
Dear you,
You used to call me your sweetheart.
You used to hold my hand like I was the only one you saw.
But now...
I don’t even recognize you anymore.
What changed?
Was I never enough, or did I just stop being convenient?
There was so much love once — or at least,
I thought there was.
Now it feels like I was dreaming
While you were already halfway out the door.
I can’t explain this ache.
It’s like I’m still here,
But something inside me has gone missing.
I can’t eat. I can’t breathe.
My eyes are always heavy.
I thought your heart was my home —
But maybe I was just renting a lie.
And the tragedy?
It wasn’t loud.
It came quietly…
Through forgotten messages, missed calls,
And cold silences where warmth used to live.
You made me feel loved,
And then suddenly, like I didn’t belong.
Like I was a mistake you couldn’t wait to erase.
Maybe I was never meant for love.
Maybe some people are just meant to feel it,
Not keep it.
Tonight,
I wish I could place a stone on my chest
So the pain would stop swelling,
So the dreams of you would stop haunting.
I still want you.
That’s the worst part.
Even now,
My heart beats like it’s waiting for you to come back.
But I’m tired.
Tired of pretending I’m fine.
Tired of writing your name
In every quiet corner of my mind.
So if you must do something —
Curse me.
Curse me so deeply that I forget you completely.
I don’t want to remember your voice anymore.
Not your smile. Not your laugh. Not anything.
I’m done writing poems about you.
But this one?
This is the last one.
After this,
You’re just going to be someone I used to know.
— Me (~itachi6756)
(Still healing, still hurting, but trying to forget you.)
Dear Mother,
They got me
just with her name.
Someone said it, and boom—
my heart jumped like it remembered
something I’ve been trying to forget.
Something I buried.
And it hurt. All over again.
I thought I was stronger,
untouched by her memory.
But I was wrong.
So wrong.
Because just hearing her name
A soft echo of it,
and my heart rose
from the grave I buried it in,
only to die again
in her absence.
Mother, how do I lie to you
How do I tell you I’ve moved on,
when I die a little
every time I see her
laugh at someone else’s joke ?
How do I pretend
I don’t love her anymore
when every part of me
still aches for her ?
I say I don’t like her eyes anymore—
but I’d give anything
just to look into them once more.
I say I don’t miss her voice—
but I still remember
exactly how she said my name.
I act like I’ve let her go,
but I still look for her..
in every crowd,
every quiet room,
every unwritten line,
Everywhere.
Mother, I’ve tried.
I’ve tried to silence
this stubborn heart.
But it keeps writing her name
Oh, mother,
why doesn’t he understand
that the one you ache for
doesn’t ache for you?
That the one you’d never leave
walked away
without a second glance ?
Still, he waits.
Still, he loves.
Still, he hopes—
And I’m scared, Mom.
Scared that he always will.
Love,
Your heartbroken son
(Loving a dream that wouldn't return)
~itachi6756
Even the stars must envy your beauty.
It’s 2 AM, and I wonder—
Do I even exist?
Am I just a myth, a fading thought,
Or something you created in your mind?
I exist, but only within these walls.
My creator told me never to break them.
They are here to cage me,
To protect me from myself.
But am I that dangerous?
If I am, then why do I even exist?
Why not let me meet my fate?
"You are not real," my creator said.
Then what am I? A dream? A delusion?
I want to know what’s outside.
I want to feel the wind, see the sky.
I want to love, to live—
But the walls won’t let me.
Am I a monster? A devil?
Or just a mistake?
I grew up watching these walls,
Year after year, they never faded.
They only grew stronger.
Then one day, they were gone.
I was free.
But I didn’t know how to run.
I didn’t know how to love.
Dear reader, tell me—
Did you create me?
Or am I you?
Or are you me?
The walls were my fate,
Always there, just changing shape.
And this time, they were your face, my beloved—
The love that caged me till my end.
~itachi6756
Curse me so that I may never remember you.
~itachi6756

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
In search of just one happiness—
You, my beloved—
How much sorrow tormented me,
While I wandered the ruins of my longing.
I looked at you—
I would die for you,
I would kill for you,
Either way, what bliss.
Yet, consider how cursed I was,
That I even did what I ought not to have done
I walked a path with no end,
No matter what I did,
I gained nothing.
I never found you.
In the search of you, my love,
Sorrow wrapped its hands around my throat,
Drowning me in the depths of what could never be.
Where have I reached?
What have I become?
When I looked back, just for a moment,
I was ashamed to look.
Whatever didn’t kill me,
Turned me into this.
I hate myself with every—
fiber of my being.
Ohh my beloved,
May you be my last thought
Before emptiness swallows me whole.
~itachi6756
My sleepless nights dream of your home.
~itachi6756