redhaireddoc21

He comes for me in the night

Curates me for his collection

My Phantom’s brutal love bites

Are just part of his inspection

He leaves no flesh untasted

No breath unclaimed

No pulse unbidden

No drop of my love goes wasted

No darkness of mine stays hidden

He is the heat between my thighs

The race within my begging heart

And every kiss upon my skin

His deep obsession does impart

I come apart within his grasp

As each desire within he finds

Unraveling me like a vow

Each gasp I bleat, an oath that binds

We fall apart to come together

We wander and, yet, we return

Entangled in each other’s souls

Even after our bodies burn

Wanting is the weakest thing one can do.

Any man can want...

Want costs nothing ~ no discipline, no devotion, no depth of character. It is merely appetite without architecture. Hunger without hands worthy of holding what they reach for.

Yet, to crave her ~ to feel that consuming desire to witness her unfold, layer by layer, like something sacred finally finding the light... that is another language entirely.

She is not yours to take. She is yours to tend.

To learn the geography of who she is and who she is becoming. To earn the extraordinary privilege of watching her lay her chains down ~ not because you demanded it, but because you built something so steady, so honest, so quietly powerful, that surrender felt like freedom to her.

That is not wanting ~ it is devotion with a spine.

Honor her. Cherish her. Guide her... not toward you, but toward herself. Toward everything she was always meant to become. Be the kind of presence that makes her more, never less.

Wanting is easy. It is the first word in a sentence that the weakminded never finish.

But to be trusted with her becoming ~ to hold space for all she is, and all she has yet to discover ~ that is the sentence worth writing...

...and that truth is beautiful, rare... and wrapped in strength.

Wishing you a beautiful Thursday!

~beccawise7💜🖤

He whispered: “It’s not about the destination; it’s all about the journey.”

The words drifted between them like breath on a winter night.

She shivered— not from the cold, but from the weight of roads untaken, from maps folded inside her heart, from the sudden fear that every step beside him mattered more than where they would arrive.

Around them, the world kept moving— stars crossing invisible distances, leaves surrendering to the wind.

And for one fragile moment, the future loosened its grip.

There was only the path, his voice, and the quiet tremor of knowing she was already home.

The restless chambers of her mind grew still at last. Questions that had circled for years settled like snow upon a sleeping field.

No more measuring horizons, no more chasing certainty.

Growth is born in the gray spaces... forged in the dark, and shaped by discomfort.

Give yourself grace. Trust the process. The good is coming. Keep growing. ✌️

~Kindness is free & it costs nothing to be a good human!

Wishing you a wonderful day!

Another mother ship spotted in Texas... 🤷‍♀️

At this point, anything is possible. 😂😉

Have a fabulous evening. 🥰

~beccawise7💜🖤