What Are You Thinking? Continued 14

When desire has been stifled for so long it feels like a phantom limb - bitten down until your jaw aches, buried so deep you almost believe it’s gone…
When you’ve been taught to swallow it whole, to smother it in silence, to render it invisible…
When the world has branded it shameful, told you to strip it from your bones, taught you to wear the absence like armor -

And then you stumble into a place called Lit.

Here, you are not a sin to be scrubbed clean.
Here, you are not a secret to be hidden in shadows.
Here, you can breathe the air raw,
and run naked through the fire of your own hunger,
laughing at the chains that once held you.

It isn’t about wanting to be admired.
It’s about wanting to be true to yourself - to stand in front of the mirror, bare,
and see not shame in the softness of skin or the heat in your eyes,
but something untamed, beautiful, and unashamed.

Here, desire isn’t a crime.
It is a birthright.
It is the wild thing that has always been yours.
And in this place,
you don’t have to apologize for the way you burn.
 
When desire has been stifled for so long it feels like a phantom limb - bitten down until your jaw aches, buried so deep you almost believe it’s gone…
When you’ve been taught to swallow it whole, to smother it in silence, to render it invisible…
When the world has branded it shameful, told you to strip it from your bones, taught you to wear the absence like armor -

And then you stumble into a place called Lit.

Here, you are not a sin to be scrubbed clean.
Here, you are not a secret to be hidden in shadows.
Here, you can breathe the air raw,
and run naked through the fire of your own hunger,
laughing at the chains that once held you.

It isn’t about wanting to be admired.
It’s about wanting to be true to yourself - to stand in front of the mirror, bare,
and see not shame in the softness of skin or the heat in your eyes,
but something untamed, beautiful, and unashamed.

Here, desire isn’t a crime.
It is a birthright.
It is the wild thing that has always been yours.
And in this place,
you don’t have to apologize for the way you burn.
You have a wonderful talent for putting words together. These posts of yours are beginning to become very addicting to read...you've done well...:devil:
 
When desire has been stifled for so long it feels like a phantom limb - bitten down until your jaw aches, buried so deep you almost believe it’s gone…
When you’ve been taught to swallow it whole, to smother it in silence, to render it invisible…
When the world has branded it shameful, told you to strip it from your bones, taught you to wear the absence like armor -

And then you stumble into a place called Lit.

Here, you are not a sin to be scrubbed clean.
Here, you are not a secret to be hidden in shadows.
Here, you can breathe the air raw,
and run naked through the fire of your own hunger,
laughing at the chains that once held you.

It isn’t about wanting to be admired.
It’s about wanting to be true to yourself - to stand in front of the mirror, bare,
and see not shame in the softness of skin or the heat in your eyes,
but something untamed, beautiful, and unashamed.

Here, desire isn’t a crime.
It is a birthright.
It is the wild thing that has always been yours.
And in this place,
you don’t have to apologize for the way you burn.
Mmmm your way with words and emotions is intoxicating.

Drinking them in, reading again, another taste.
 
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