In His Embrace, I Slowly Died

Dark figure cloaked in storm light stands among wilted flowers as crows circle overhead.

When love turns blade, how does the heart go on bleeding?

Your kindness took my hand and held my gaze,
granting what my father would withhold.
Each night I drowned within your velvet storm,
where your love left me exiled to the cold.

Dragged through the dark when I starved your desire,
I fought the tempest of your violation.
Torn from myself — a ghost in your command,
your fevered wrath became my desecration.

I lost my breath beneath your crushing strength,
held in your vice, I learned to suffocate.
I felt love coil into a corpse of faith —
no one saw my spirit disintegrate.

Unripened flesh veiled bruised and broken bones;
a tender stroke that tore my soul apart.
Your cruel words hummed in cathedral tones,
and bewitched the ghosts that haunted my heart.

Death claimed the boy who once lit up the world —
a lamb devoured by shadows of the past.
Your repressive voice echoes through the years,
and silenced a heart too fierce to last.

—H, bled dry beneath his promise of affection

Whispers from the Wound: More Grief Poems to Mourn…

A solitary man stands in shadow beside a cold window and dying fire, while a blurred dancefloor glows behind him like a distant memory.

Sparkling Emerald Eyes

A tender sonnet of longing, intimacy, and deep loss. Through sensual recollections of winter nights and moonlit passion, one man mourns the love he can never hold again.

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A shadowed child crouched in a rain-soaked forest, surrounded by mud and fading light.

When No One Saw and No One Heard

Buried beneath silence, a boy’s cries fade into the earth: unheard, unseen and unhealed.

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Young man kneels in a dark bedroom clutching a teddy bear, facing a closed door with a ghostly silhouette behind it

Dear Father

A haunting letter written into silence, this prose poem mourns a father’s absence across years of abuse, shame and longing. Each memory aches with the weight of what wasn’t said, and what wasn’t stopped.

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Whispers from the Scars: More Poems of Survival and Strength…

Blood-streaked sink in dim, tiled bathroom with chains and a shadowy mirror above

Danced the Razor’s Edge

A sorrowful meditation on betrayal and self-destruction, this poem dances the fine line between desperation and release. It bleeds with the ache of unrequited hope, where pain becomes prayer and silence becomes a scream.

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A winged man kneels to comfort another in a shadowed cavern, his dark angel wings spread wide as symbols of protection and redemption. The broken man leans into his embrace, surrounded by dim light and fallen chains that hint at liberation from pain.

Rescued Me

When the brutal world fractured his soul, one man dared to step into the shadows, breaking chains with tenderness and healing a heart others feared. This is the story of being rescued by love—and reborn through it.

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A boy with bound hands kneels alone beneath a red moon, while distant figures dance along the shoreline.

Bound in Darkness

A blood-stained sonnet of abuse and survival, told beneath the Celtic moon. A cry from the dark, where no one listened, not even God.

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Whispers of Emotion: More Lyric Poems to Feel…

Candle burning inside a cage with chained shadows of grasping hands reaching from the dark

Dreamed He Would Keep Me Safe

A burning lament for the promises love breaks, this poem journeys through desire, control, and regret. What began as safety becomes obsession, where flame becomes fetter and trust leaves only wounds.

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Two men embrace tenderly in warm light as a tiger watches beside them with calm strength

Conquered by His Fierce and Tender Love

A lyric poem exploring the beautiful duality of gay love - fierce and gentle, healing and erotic. In his arms, the speaker finds not just desire, but salvation.

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Bare-chested man bound in chains, silenced and shadowed by a dark demonic figure

You Took Away My Voice

A fierce, defiant protest against forced silence and psychological abuse, this poem exposes the cruelty of control, the violence of censorship, and the quiet war waged against a soul struggling to speak.

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