The unbearable state of desire.

My name is forever tainted by the sound of your breath. It is in deep embrace with each moan that escapes your muffled lips.

My name has been tamed. Each time they call it, I throb in anticipation of your fingernails digging into my spine. Chain my vocal chords with strands of your hair, my voice quivers when I hear yours.

My skin has changed patterns and my veins realigned following the trace your touch has left lingering. I itch unwillingly, feeling phantom cravings from faded deliriums. Perhaps the worst is feeling you so close into my hips, swinging from side to side, teasing with your smile. Perhaps the worst is reaching out to grab you and collecting dust.

My soul is famished for the spark you send dripping down my neck each time your hand touches mine in the morning, almost aching from the sleepy absent mindfulness of the night. And in this turmoil of beautiful agony, I breathe you in, take all of you into me, as if it were the last time we meet.

Pink Diaries By Asher Moss.

Stray hearts°

You look at me with kind eyes that stretch into the horizon, and whisper words made from the melody of your heartbeats. You look at me with feelings that flow, pouring flowers from your lips and onto mine. You stay. And I push. And you stay. And I can’t breathe. Because I look at you with the sorrow of the words you’ll never mean. I look at you with blame for all the pain you will impose on my survival. I see you on my sheets, staining them with your scent that will curl up under my spine and unearth my lungs.

I look like a fresh Lilly with dew on my petals, waking up on a Sunday morning, with life sprouting in my veins. I seem like a drowsy drizzle on the edge of your window, pulling you from your soft slumber to come play under the willow tree.

But fundamentally and down to the core, I am a drenched log, expanding from all the humidity that has caused my heart to weigh me down. I am a leap of faith that has seized to comprehend distance and dimensions. I am a sentence of jumbled up words allocating letters to the sounds they don’t belong to.

Love, I trust your eyes, your lashes clutching to them like they’re what make you thrive.

Love, I believe in the air that blows through your ribs, bringing you closer together.

I just don’t trust the time that it took for you to fall, the same time it will take you to put on your coat and walk away.

Contemporary art°

So smoke the flowers in my head into oblivion, desperately trying to turn memories into stories of pure fantasy. Tell me one more time that my bones grew thorns into your delicate skin. Draw on my back the scars of your heartbreak. Shed tears into my palms so I can turn them into a trophy and place it behind bars on a pedestal of sorts.

Darling, drain it all. Stain the sheets of our wilted petals. Fall apart on the pavement where we first realized it was all breaking into a million pieces.
And then dance.
Dance like the world owes you a lover. Dance like our love owes you empowerment. Move like your soul is made of mesmerizing ondulations.
Is that what you’re looking for?
A voice that resonates into your spine to convince you that you are ok. You are ok. You are ok.


There is a tangible reason for the love I feel towards everything that is you. An un-divine explanation from the galaxies within your eyes. There’s a theorem to decipher the magnetic attraction between the tips of my fingers and the arch of your back. I swear to God I’ve read the proof. I saw the graphs that align with the perfect way you fit into my arms at night to fall in between my collarbones. And I drew the charts from the freckles on your back that led me to the constellation in your mind.

My love, you’re exponentially growing roots in my spine, setting me free from all my inhibitions. Morphing into a Lilly in my gut, spreading your leaves in my lungs.

So when I tell you that I know that your love is unfathomable, it’s not because my heart can’t grasp the immensity of warmth that you bring to my soul; it is solely due to the fact that my mind would have never guessed a love so infinite could exist.

When everything dies.

The palm of your hand trembles on my back as we sway in an empty field. Darling, we’re forever lost in silent woods. Barefoot we walk side by side. Why do you fear me?

You hold me closer, tighter… and twirl me around as daisies fall at my feet, withering as they surrender… You spin me around in unbound arms stretched out to the sky. You say that I’m a drug of contemplation, a high without the fall, a quick fix. You grab me by the neck and tell me that my skin radiates escapism and my eyes glow to keep away the darkness in your mind. You press your hand on my heart and scream into the void, that the only things that satiates your famine is my curled up thoughts…

And as I spin, twigs get caught in my toes, shred my blue satin dress.

And as I twirl, my breath gets heavier, my head lighter. My heart clenches. I need to stop.

But I spin, and I twirl until my feet fail me and I drop to my knees.

You’re still here.

You hold me tight, and in your broken embrace you whisper in my ear “we’re all addicted to whatever takes the pain away”


I stood under the scolding droplets for the longest time, thinking about the night I held your hand under the rain… Where was I taking you? 

If stories were true about loves and forevers, well then with each drop falling on your forehead, I saw a little eternity of moments. 

So I took your hand, let go of the umbrella, and we ran… Clumsy and wild… Then you pulled me closer, under the flailing lantern lights embracing our silhouettes, and kissed me for all the flashbacks we didn’t get to have.

I promised you, in unspoken breathes, that my tainted fingertips will never tarnish your delicate skin. That the fire in my words will fall at your feet.

[…] I stood under the scolding water for all the eternities we didn’t bring to life, leaned against cold walls, and thought about the time i walked away in the rain, for fear of drowning you in me.

Sundays are for lovers

With eyes half shut, and golden glows falling in cascade on your skin, I draw flowers sprouting from your spine. There are words that send me into a frenzy, and then there’s the sound of you breathing into this morning light. I see you wrapped up in sheets that don’t stand a chance to the softness of your touch and I wrap you up in arms that crave to get lost in you.

My dear, don’t get me wrong, I want you in all the glory of what that word  entitles… 

But when your chest rises and falls with such serenity, to the beat bursting through my veins, know that my walls crumble. And know that when I whisper I want you, it doesn’t just mean I want my skin against yours, it means I want to forget where my skin ends and yours begins.