You know them when you meet them.

You can't quite put your finger on how. Its

some kind of quiet, unintrusive, intent.

Genuine curiosity catches off guard. There is

something your subconscious can't help but

see... The curiosity itself is the intent.

They aren't seeking anything, from you, or of

you. It feels different, because it is different.

When someone just wants to understand

you, and be understood by you, that energy

is damn near palpable, When someone truly

makes no judgements of you, you realize

everyone else was full of shit. You think of all

the times what you told them was used

against you, or changed the way they treated

you, or the way it not so subtlety created

distance... all on its own. But then you meet someone who is only being drawn in by all of what makes up what is you... not slowly moving out of arms reach.

Being shown true care and true love, being

shown what a truly safe place can feel like, is

like suddenly realizing you've been swimming

in the ocean your whole life, and now finding

solid ground beneath your feet.

How do you explain what standing up feels like to

someone whos been adrift at sea their whole life?

And thats when it hits you. What this person

is truly showing you. They've been here, standing

on land, for who know how long. And they were once a drift like you, they had to be... But they found land somehow. And what did they do

with it? They didnt put up walls, or try to

hide it for their own personal utopia. No, instead they turned towards the ocean, the same ocean they just pulled themselves out of, and started trying to pull as many people out of the water as they could. And this epiphany becomes a marked moment in your life and on who you will be from that day forward.

Because there is an unavoidable choice that this safe ground quietly demands of you. A choice that will be made for you if you don't have the courage to make it yourself, and that is...

Who will You be now?

Will you be the one who start building walls?

Or will you turn to face the water... and start

calling to those still at sea.

If only I had two lives, then I could waste one

Singe beneath this sun, until my hairs grow grey

Until I wrinkle and decay, and the wind carries me away

If only I knew your heart, then I could take aim

Hold your hand, watch them grow

Until it's time to let them go

But I only have one, one poem, one chance

No space for regrets, no time to waste

So forgive me if I do not mistake

And remain trapped in chains

I am afraid, you see

To love, to lose, to pay

Thus here I remain, for me do not wait

I only have one, and so I will stay

19 years ago nothing left but me

Obscene that you were taken just like that

19 years ago nothing left but me

7 days induced coma no words spoken

19 years ago nothing left but me

A moment shared but pain was all I saw our eyes locked

19 years ago nothing left but me

That was the moment of the end

19 years ago nothing left but me

Memories of yesterday start to fade

19 years ago today you died

PG

I started my onlyfans a little over 2 months ago and wrote this poem about my experience so far, pulled mostly from actual messages with a few tweaks (artistic license)… interested to know how other people’s experiences compare!

It's fine (you didn't squirt this time)
Nice to meet you, love the girl next door vibe,
Tbh you’d prob get more if it was cheaper to subscribe.
No pressure at all, it’s been fun just flirting,
But I gotta ask… any luck with the squirting?
Not sure what others ask for but here is my plea:
Latex gloves, spitting, is that something I could see?
How ‘bout you in lingerie and a hard hat,
Or sucking off a dildo, I'd be down with that.
But wait, don’t forget the power of your voice!
“Bet you wish this was your cock?” would be a good choice.
This platform sucks but you still got some cake.
I'll def tip you later if I’m still awake.
And for real, no hard feelings it’s fine.
Thanks for trying maybe you can squirt another time.

Maybe I was wrong to ever reach back out—
maybe I caused more harm than good.
I used to tell myself we needed each other in that moment in time,
that our souls called to each other to fill some hidden void.
Maybe I was wrong…
All those years spent believing there was some unexplainable connection,
like I was always tethered to you—
no matter where we went or how much time passed.
Maybe I was wrong…
The way my heart still hurt years later,
just as deeply as it did the day you left—
I told myself a love like that had to be special,
that a bond like that had to be unbreakable.
Maybe I was wrong…
The way I’d see you in dreams so vividly,
feel your touch on my skin,
hear your voice echo in my heart—
that had to mean something.
People don’t dream like that for years after,
not with no contact.
Maybe I was wrong…
My heart is broken again,
but this time it feels different.
This time it feels forever broken.
Hopefully…
I’m wrong.

how u fear attachment
is how i fear losing u
i wish you the best , my love
i wish u did too
tho my best is you
you say ill find a better guy
when all i want is you
i'll say this again to you
oh god
i think im in love with you

*I had a really hard time with this one, and had some help... lots to express.

I do not want to cage you.
I have seen what happens. when a spirit built for movement. begins to suffocate.

So I swallow my fears quietly. while you chase another horizon,
another concert,
another road that calls your name louder than I do.

And maybe that is what hurts.

Not the trips themselves,
but the silence around them.
The absence of
“Come with me.”
The absence of
“I wish you were here.”

I imagine you there—
music loud enough to forget the world,
laughing with strangers. who do not know your history,
who only see your smile in motion,
the version of you that feels light again.

And I am happy for that freedom in you…
and still, something inside me tighten
at the thought of how easily you can become a stranger to me
while becoming fully alive somewhere else.

You leave so easily,
while I remain standing at the edge
of your life,
trying not to ask
whether there is truly room for me in it.

And sometimes fear slips in quietly,
not as certainty,
but as a shadow my mind walks toward. when I feel far away from you.

Not a truth I want to believe,
but a fear that appears. in the spaces you don’t speak into:
that in the brightness of those nights. and the anonymity of new places,
you might forget the shape of “us.”

I tell myself. you are healing.
That sobriety has left your soul restless,
searching for air,
for freedom,
for some version of yourself. that existed before the pain.

And I want that for you.
Truly, I do.

But somewhere inside me. lives a quieter ache:

Will I always be. the woman waiting at home. while you go searching for life elsewhere?

Because the truth is,
I want to feel alive too.

I want wind in my hair. in a country I have never seen.
I want late night streets,
strange music,
sunlight on unfamiliar oceans.
I want stories of my own. instead of standing still. while loving someone always in motion.

I do not need ownership.
I do not need chains.
I do not need every mile beside you.

I only want to feel. that when you see something beautiful,
your heart reaches for me too.

That somewhere between
all your escaping and all my overthinking,
there exists a place
where we finally choose each other
without fear.

Because loving someone who loves freedom
is its own kind of heartbreak—
learning how to open your hands
without feeling abandoned
when they fly.

And maybe love was never meant. to keep either of us small,
but to find a way
for both of us
to feel free
while still returning
to one another.

I never wanted you until you wanted me.
Then I began craving the feeling of being wanted by you,
and somewhere along the way,
I started wanting you too.

We gave ourselves to each other in every way possible.

But now I’m no longer sure
you want me anymore.

And still, I want you
not because you once wanted me,
but because I realized
I could never love you less,
only more.

Living in a 1984 dystopia,

Never know who your allies are,

In wars that shouldn’t start,

We are not playing the main parts,

They’re keeping us subdued,

Playing both sides till we’re unglued,

Pushing out devastating news,

Preaching to the pews,

While defiling gods very name,

Non-believers think the same,

Powers act like it’s some chess game,

But it’s monopoly with no shame.

I run to her, to feel,
I long for something inside,
And to get to her, danger will appear
I'm doing it to simply feel,

They call me crazy, for loving her,
But I just feel better simply knowing her
Sometimes the pain is all I need,
Most of the time it's the fear that helps me,

I chase her to fill the deep, deep, hole
And the tears, are memories,
That every jump I take is freeing,
From all the hollow feelings,

I use her so that I can have an affair with death,
Because the kiss of death is what relieves me,
But then the breath I finally receive,
Is better than any form of cigarettes,

If you were her,
I’d hear your words
like a lantern in mist,
small, warm, stubbornly bright.

I’d let them rest
in the hollow of my hands,
where missing becomes
something gentle,
not a wound
but a whisper
that remembers.

And I’d answer,
not with certainty,
but with presence,
I feel the distance too.

Grief stood outside my door, her presence growing harder to ignore.
For I had seen her out there before, unsure of what I was waiting for.
Eventually, I let her in.
She softly said, "darling, where do I begin?"
Not sure how long this meeting would last,
we sat and talked about the past.
And with that being said,
tears were surely shed.
But she gently held my hand,
and suddenly, each feeling became easier to understand.
While time no longer seemed to exist,
"will you stay longer?" I insist.
Silly me, not to have invited you in before-
now I place a "welcome, grief" mat at my door.
❤️‍🩹

L.J.A

waves call to me... beckoning

whales songs... music to my being

sea gulls speak to me

ocean's stormy blue eyes

sun warm sand colors my skin

abalone lips

hands that clench rock cliff

as legs tread waves fluidly 

beachgrass is my hair

voice soothing as waves

heart heard as rushing in shells

my touch like the breeze

is it possible, the ocean made me?

PrincessGhost

In the hour when the walls forget their shape

and shadows loosen from the corners like breath,

there is a kingdom no map has ever held—

a quiet place stitched from absence and echo.

No banners fly there.

No sunlight insists on meaning.

Only the soft hum of something unfinished,

something waiting to be named.

They once called her princess.

Crowned in something fragile—

expectation, maybe,

or the delicate weight of being seen.

Gold touched her hair like a promise

she never agreed to keep.

Her hands were meant to wave from balconies,

to belong to a story with an ending.

But endings are a kind of brightness,

and brightness has a way of asking too much.

So she stepped away.

Not all at once—

not in some dramatic fall from grace—

but slowly, like a candle deciding

it no longer wants to fight the dark.

And that’s when she met the ghost.

He did not arrive with rattling chains

or hollow threats.

He was quieter than that—

a presence that felt like memory

before you know what you’re remembering.

He stood beside her in the dim,

not asking questions,

not demanding she return

to the version of herself that glittered.

“Are you lost?” she asked him once.

But ghosts do not get lost.

They simply remain.

She began to understand him

in the way night understands silence—

not as emptiness,

but as space where truth doesn’t have to perform.

He taught her the language of shadows:

how darkness is not the absence of light,

but the refusal to pretend

that light explains everything.

Together, they wandered halls

that no longer belonged to time—

rooms filled with echoes of laughter

that had forgotten who they came from.

She took off her crown there.

Not in rebellion—

but in relief.

It slipped from her head

like a name that never quite fit,

landing without sound

on a floor that had seen too much.

“You were never only a princess,”

the ghost seemed to say

without speaking.

“And you were never only gone,”

she answered,

feeling something inside her shift—

not breaking,

but rearranging.

Darkness wrapped around them

like something patient.

Not cruel.

Not consuming.

Just present.

And in that presence,

she became something else entirely—

not the girl in the tower,

not the echo in the halls,

but both.

She learned to walk without being seen

and to be seen without being owned.

She learned that haunting

and healing

sometimes wear the same face.

The ghost no longer felt separate from her.

He moved when she moved.

Paused when she paused.

A reflection, maybe—

or a truth that had finally

stopped hiding behind light.

They gave her a new name,

though no one spoke it aloud.

It lived in the quiet between heartbeats,

in the stillness after tears,

in the moment you realize

you’re still here

even when everything feels like it isn’t.

PrincessGhost.

Not a contradiction—

but a convergence.

A ruler of nothing visible,

a spirit anchored in something real.

She does not need a throne now.

She does not need saving.

She walks through darkness

like it belongs to her—

because it does.

Because she chose it,

and it chose her back

without conditions,

without illusion.

And if you ever find yourself

in that same unlit kingdom—

where your thoughts feel too loud

and your name feels too heavy—

you might catch a glimpse of her.

Not glowing.

Not broken.

Just steady.

A princess

who stopped pretending she needed light

to be whole.

A ghost

who never truly disappeared.

A name whispered by the dark itself—

PrincessGhost.

Whatever happens, ill always have you. in my head, you are mine and nothing bad has ever happened to us. in my head, you talk to me about all the things you'e thinking about and i listen and try not to tell you i love you. i don't know if i love you. but if my heart could jump out of my ribcage and into the world it'd first plop itself into your hands. what would you do with it, i wonder. i keep writing about you. for this, i apologise. i am rather self indulgent – my thoughts do not wish to be occupied with anything other than you. you are so full of small curiosities, i could watch you forever. i study maths so i can map out the curve of your smile and the angle at which your head tilts when you're thinking. i have started to adore physics only because of you. i'll watch your deft fingers scribble something hastily and realise i want to be included in it. so im forced to know things, to reach the lazy genius of your intelligence with slow, laboured steps. some days i catch you watching me and it sends a thrill through my spine. i immediately sit straighter, eyes on my work, trying to pretend that i'm not aware of the way your eyes fix on me.

I want to know
what version of you appears
when the lights are low
and nobody else is watching.

The version that stops pretending
to be composed,
that lets desire speak first
instead of reason.

Come closer
close enough that I can feel
your hesitation dissolve
against my skin.

I want your hands on me
with that dangerous softness,
the kind that makes my body wonder
how something gentle
can still leave me breathless.

Touch me like you’ve imagined this before.
Like I’ve crossed your mind
in quiet moments,
in restless nights,
in fantasies you never dared confess out loud.

Pull me into you slowly,
until there’s no space left
for restraint to survive.

I want the tension,
the teasing,
the deliberate patience
of being wanted intensely
without rushing the ache of it.

Kiss me in ways
that ruin my concentration afterward.
The kind of kisses
that linger for hours,
replaying themselves
every time I try to think clearly.

Tell me what you crave.
Tell me where your mind goes
when you miss me too much.
I want every secret desire
spoken softly against my mouth
like something forbidden
we’re finally allowing ourselves to feel.

I want your attention possessive,
your gaze heavy,
your fingertips tracing slowly
like you’re memorizing reactions
you plan to cause again later.

Let me sit in your lap
while your hands distract me
from finishing a single thought.
Let your voice turn low and rough
right beside my ear
until my composure starts slipping
piece by piece.

I want that unbearable anticipation
the kind where every almost-touch
feels hotter
than certainty itself.

Make me wait for you.
Make me melt for you.
Make me feel chosen
in the most consuming way possible.

I want tangled sheets,
half-whispered confessions,
lazy smiles after midnight,
and the kind of chemistry
that makes sleep impossible.

Leave your affection on me
like a hidden mark:
not visible,
but unforgettable.

Something my body remembers later
when I’m alone,
replaying the way you looked at me
like desire and tenderness
had become the same thing.

And afterward,
when all the tension finally softens,
hold me close enough
to hear my heartbeat slowing beneath your chest.

Stay there.

Like neither of us
is ready to return
to a world
that doesn’t feel like this.

Maybe I know why
I love you so deeply
is because you’re the first person
to truly make me feel seen.

Somehow, you make me feel
like I’m the only person in the world.

Maybe I know why
I love you so intensely
is because you taught me how
to love not only you,
but myself too.

Maybe I know why
our love feels so familiar
is because you’re the only one
who truly gets me,
accepts me as I am,
and makes me feel like I’m enough.

When life gets heavy,
when burdens cast shadows,
I look for you.
Always.

A boy in a cage

He barely can move

A girl in a cage

Doesn't know what to do

A boy in a cage

He barely has room

A girl in a cage

She cries to the moon

A boy in a cage

Tries to reach out his hand

A girl in a cage

In a far away land

A boy in a cage

Captivated by beauty

A girl in a cage

Holding on to her duty

A boy in a cage

He can't take it much longer

A girl in a cage

With a mind full of wonder

A boy in a cage

He's still young but feels old

A girl in a cage

And the floor is so cold

A boy in a cage

He would give her his warmth

A girl in his cage

She could cry in his arms

A boy in a cage

But the world doesn't care

A girl in a cage

With no one else there

A boy in a cage

And he's so alone

A girl in a cage

Would like to feel home

A boy in a cage

Has nothing to offer

But Dear girl in the cage

I don't want you to suffer

Why was it you?

I ask myself this often;

How you cracked through

After so many years without

Meeting anyone who made me

Feel much of anything at all. So

Why was it you?

I've met and known many

Physically beautiful people;

I notice, sure, but it doesn't

Fluster me, or make my heart

Open and sing with proximity. So

Why was it you?

It wasn't just because you

Made me laugh; your humour

Is one of my favourite things,

Yes, but I know many people who

Can make me laugh like you do. So

Why was it you?

Maybe it was your intelligence,

Diligence, quick wit and methodical

Way of problem-solving...but those

Traits by themselves couldn't have

Been what made all the difference. So

Why was it you?

Was it because you opened your

Door wide, invited me in, before

I realised what was happening?

Was it because you made me

Feel not only wanted, but also

Appreciated, safe and seen?

Was it because, even in the

Smallest moments, you managed

To both uplift and challenge me?

Or was it because

Every moment we spoke,

Spent time together, got to

Know one another a little bit better,

More details of your rich tapestry came

Into focus, had me increasingly curious;

Awestruck to see how your threads

Created such intricate portrait of

Kind complexity and strength?

Maybe the question has never been,

Why was it you? - so instead I ask,

How could it not have been?

Written into the void with no expectations and no regrets

I gave you my heart, but you threw it all away. I knew this would happen from the start. It can wait another day. I know it will happen soon, when I feel more ready. I knew that are love was doomed. I have to wait for my heart to steady.

I don't need your empty promises, or your cold affection. From here on out, I'm taking my heart in a brand new direction. Its not that I don't need love, but it's for my heart's protection. When I look at the stars up above, I don't like what they're projecting.

You chose another love. You're wrapped up in their arms. I was on the edge, you gave a shove, You must like when I am harmed.

I don't need this shit, I'm so done with you. You tore my heart to bits, but I outgrew The need for your validation, And all your endless frustrations. I'm done with feeling confused. I'm so done feeling used. I'm done with your abuse. You say you didn't mean to hurt me, but you knew.