"For the most part things lost their usual meaning."
Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
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"For the most part things lost their usual meaning."
Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

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bark of the willow,
wrecked muller,
centuries agoβ
folklore withtold,
literary console,
artwork adored,
status adorned.
directions supposed,
generations dispersed.
bit into the corners,
carved carnivore,
useless letting go.
dust gathers mold,
dusky treasure,
secrets boxed close,
lies engrossed,
case condoned,
horrors during throes.
cursed cloaks,
struggles retold,
baited nature,
beckoning endow,
hindsight taperedβ
beneath the person,
a stray dog.
Chapter I: Clandestiny
Blue Bayoux
golden blue
almost silver
I want to taste
your sweet liquor
this longing
heavy on my chest
this breathing
shallow and repressed
shut my lips
quiver as they will
this secret
it must never spill
this tension
both of us can feel
thumper of the heart
as I hold you dear
oh how much I yearn
just to hold you near
ββββββββββ
I study the stars without a guide
hoping theyβll lead me north where the sun shines
ββββββββββ
Letter in Reverie II
thunder
in my heart
you make me wonder
just how far
feeling will take me
to the stars?
how much might rip me
right apart
glowing, gleaming
such a sensual feeling
now my heartβs finally beating
now my lungs let me breathe in
the salty air
heavy on my chest
the shore unclear
left in a daze
trying to tear
through this foggy haze
feet donβt fail me now
I might find out
that golden spark
unclear but bright
just like a star
it shines so bright
canβt look away
might burn my eyes
ignore the pain
I might find out
what led me here
right through the noise
a quiet soul
that silver poise
canβt look away
I might find out
if I can stay
cause I can wait
cause I can wait
ββββββββββ
the compass needle of my heart is helpless to the gravity of you
ββββββββββ
Tender Tempest
the ghost of a past
or maybe a future
I never had
if I reach out
then can I grasp?
echoes of blue
circulate my system
if I lean in
will I just have missed it?
if I keep the distance
then can I stay?
if I conceal the heart
will you let me wait?
take a spark
light a match
hold it close
hold it tight
through the cold
through the night
theyβd say itβs so dark
I see all the thunder
theyβd say itβs a spark
I see all the fire
the danger
makes it
so much more
enticing
almost wanna
bite in
fragile as it is
instinct says give in
conscious of my teeth
sharper than I knew
heavy on my jaw
more than I could chew
ββββββββββ
Blushing Blues
cold, sharp
metal on skin
thoughts in my head
feel like sins
clutch the wound
yet it keeps gushing
spill the blood
cause I keep rushing
but Iβll never regret
bringing about lushing
to a garden of blue roses
that leaves me blushing
ββββββββββ
I admire its glow on the sea surface
and the red of the sky,
an untamed fire
breathing folk tales
of its presence
ββββββββββ
Clandestiny
holding my thorns tight
roots affected with blight
without the physical
you touched my with spiritual
held up a mirror
glimmering garden reflecting
the glory unseen
a tall tree you were
bent down to whisper in my ear
something ancient
in the bloodlines
through the fabric
of the timelines
fingers hovering over lines
engraved in my skeletal
where others dug their nails in
you were gentle
ββββββββββ
The weight of a hand. The hush of surrender. Where control and comfort blur into one gestureβ rooted in tenderness, charged with power. A moment between breaths, held in silence, framed by trust.
From the series The Quiet Room
Photo: Thomas Gerwers
Bride of the Ferals
Digital Fine Art Print. Available in 3 archival sizes at Low Moon Archive.

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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A Quiet Gaze in Passing Weather
Is there storm outside? Or is it behind those eyes?
ππππππππππ ππππ
Clandestiny
holding my thorns tight
roots affected with blight
without the physical
you touched me with the spiritual
held up a mirror
glimmering garden reflecting
the glory unseen
a tall tree you were
bent down to whisper in my ear
something ancient
in the bloodlines
through the fabricΒ
of the timelines
fingers hovering over lines
engraved in my skeletal
where others dug their nails in
you were gentle