Poems About Desire Novels & Stories

No second times, and definitely no strings attached. They always want more. Always think they're different. As if I haven't seen their type a thousand times before—wide eyes, trembling lips, hope curled around their fingertips like a goddamn prayer. As if spreading your legs a night before Church gathering would give them a place in heaven or whatever place these goddamn people have made up. Begging on knees. Praying. But prayers don't work on men like me. I take. I ruin. I walk away. Because desire is a dangerous thing.

why does my flame keep getting higher and it feels like I'm burning within dangerous desire? T O B E C O N T I N U E D...

The roses remained unfinished in the garden and the late afternoon light continued doing its thing with the empty space where we had been standing and inside the pack house the day became the evening in the specific, unhurried way it became evening when there was nowhere else to be and nothing more urgent than this. This, I thought much later, in the warm dark of the bedroom with the bond between us and everything that needed saying already said. This was the thing about desire. It did not stay in its lane. And that, it turned out, was exactly as it should be.

The hem of her shorts rode up, revealing the soft curve of her thigh, illuminated by the dancing candle shadows. “Desire isn’t obsolete,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “It’s the oldest creative force that exists. It doesn’t need to be pretty or moral. It just needs to be. It’s what makes us want to mix colors, touch a texture, smell skin… or demolish a wall to see what’s on the other side.” “And if on the other side there’s only ruin?” “Then you use the rubble to build something new. Something real.” She was talking about art, about life, but the words were a beam of light pointing directly at the fault line between them, at the forbidden, growing attraction that was, in itself, a power

All I desire is a life lived with you. ~ A. Gupta . VIOLET NO one told me that an unfulfilled desire can make you go crazy. Why am I saying that? Because I think I was turning into one. The smallest of things were making me angry and the barest of touches from him were making me mad with the way I hungered for him. All I wanted was to grab a fistful of his dark hair and lose myself in those sherry eyes and have all those fantasies that were keeping me awake at night come true. To finally have what I couldn’t for the last two years and for the days that I spent in my captivity.

The desire flared within me, a delicious ache that begged to be sated once more. In my mind's eye, I saw Chase's eyes, dark with desire, locked onto mine. His voice, husky and filled with longing, whispering sweet promises of pleasure. "You are everything to me, Royal," he had said, his words wrapping around my heart like a velvet ribbon. The memory of his touch sent shivers down my spine, and I surrendered to the fantasy that began to unfold in the depths of my imagination. I allowed myself to be carried away on a tide of desire, envisioning every intimate detail, every whisper, every caress.

Desire. Gods curse me, gods damn me—I feel it blooming like poison roses in my chest, curling through my veins, hotter and heavier with every heartbeat. That pull. That ache. That silent plea my soul keeps screaming no matter how many times I say never again. The bond. It’s alive now, burning like wildfire under my skin, and every flicker of its heat drags me closer to the edge of something I swore I’d never fall into again. I slam the door shut, lean against it, and press the heels of my hands into my eyes.

I find myself captivated, consumed by the quest, To unearth the poetess, to lay my doubts to rest. But she remains a shadow, a silhouette of grace, A hidden gem, a puzzle piece I yearn to embrace. Oh, Tuberose, your words paint portraits in my mind, Your thoughts and dreams are an enigmatic find. I long to know the depths from which your verses flow, To understand the emotions that only you can bestow. In the halls of my empire, your presence lingers near, A phantom muse who fills my heart with both hope and fear.

Just the quiet certainty that desire—when chosen—could stretch across cities, seasons, and years. To be continued…