I cloak myself in veils of smoke,
a fabric woven from what I choke.
Responsibilities press like hands,
yet my body hungers, it understands.
Illusion guards me, yet it betrays;
I lust for light in forbidden ways.
Every mask I wear is skin too tight,
it splits, it tears, in the heat of night.
Do you know the torment of fire contained?
Of flesh that trembles but won’t be named?
I hide behind clouds, yet dream of release,
to be devoured, to shatter my peace.
I shroud my lust in storming skies,
but passion drips through every disguise.
I ache for the eyes that strip me bare,
for fingers that tangle with lightning’s snare.
My body is wound, my body is flame,
my mind is duty, my heart a game.
In this dual hunger, I am torn apart,
between sacred weight and profane heart.
Do not believe I am endless night—
I am shadow, yes, but I yearn for light.
A storm that covers, a storm that reveals,
a mouth that denies, a mouth that appeals.