She waited in the golden chamber, where the walls had heard every secret and the sheets remembered every sin.
She did not knock. She did not ask.
She summoned.
A curl of smoke in human form;
draped in black vegan silk and molten dusk,
she wore desire like perfume and danger like lace.
They say she never speaks first.
She only watches, smiles, and lets you unravel.
Because this is not a love story.
Brad Milne
2025-05-29 23:45:23 +0000 UTCMU
2025-05-28 13:14:03 +0000 UTC