Jul 11
The river sings as it carves through stone, never mourning the pieces it takes. We, too, learn to smile with the tides—carrying the past like whispers in the waves, never sinking, only drifting further from the storm.
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The river sings as it carves through stone, never mourning the pieces it takes. We, too, learn to smile with the tides—carrying the past like whispers in the waves, never sinking, only drifting further from the storm.
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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yearning
there’s so much to do, yet so little time, yearning for dreams that will never be mine. moments of stillness slip right through my hands, defeated before i can make a stand.
is there ever a moment we’re truly at rest? a second of peace, a heart unpressed? even in those quiet, dusky hours, when the last light fades, we feel its power.
the weight of "what ifs" and "what could have been," a cycle of thought that won't let us win. is it the curse of our existence we bear, or the tragedy of life, this constant despair?
these lines may falter, they may not flow, but they mirror my mind, restless and aglow. a storm of thoughts, ever-shifting, untamed, seeking solace in words that cannot be named.
scars that faded
they say time heals, but does it lie? do wounds fade, or just learn to hide? does silence soothe, or steal our cries? do we forget, or just survive?
forgiveness blooms, or so they say, yet some thorns never fade away. not every cut turns soft with grace, some scars remain, a ghostly trace.
for time may blur, but never erase, the silent wars, the love misplaced. perhaps we don’t forget or mend, we just learn to break again, and again.
If we do not heal, we become jagged glass, slicing into those who never touched us. Time is no savior, only a quiet gravedigger, burying our screams beneath the ruins of who we used to be. But tell me, do the dead ever truly rest, or do they whisper beneath our skin, waiting to rise again?
saudade
it was supposed to be unknown shouldn’t have had a reason yet it made itself known slowly, maybe deliberately weaving into a tale never told
it started ever so lightly reasons unknown a little spark and nothing else then it grew more and more
glances turning to gazes glimpses lingering on too long it came with all the thrills it brought stars and sparkles all around but then the moment passes and time goes on
to realize these are fleeting sails never to be mine
then came the winter gazes still lingered never to be returned
could have left him perplexed better than broken ’cause it’s true what they told— skies and the seas were never meant to be
glances still linger longing to be seen as if fading in the crowds a pretend too perfect
skies will never know how much the ocean knew.
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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seethe
this anger consumes me it boils my blood, strains my veins I feel it rising in my chest burning—quiet, relentless
this anger consumes me it fills my eyes with rage how long must I pretend with a smile that isn’t mine
this anger consumes me it cannot be undone I’ve worn this mask for so long I no longer know who I was
I let this anger consume me because it cannot find its source so I let it burn me from within and mark me for life.
mayhap
maybe I am the bird without wings or the fish that couldn’t swim
maybe I am the sky without stars or the tree that never bore fruit
maybe I stayed the garden that didn’t bloom for so long that all the butterflies left
maybe I am the pen without ink or the eraser that was lost
maybe I am the coffee gone bitter or the toast burned too long
maybe I am a castle built on sand waiting to be taken by the sea
maybe I am the ballerina without shoes or the athlete who lost a leg
maybe I am a book without an ending or a poem never written
and yet— when I look through the window, I see the half moon lighting up the whole world.
The sun still rises after the longest night, and flowers bloom even where storms have raged. We carry the past like echoes in the wind, yet with every step, we learn that even broken wings remember how to dance with the sky.