weaverofbones

[weaverofbones]

Friday the 13th part 2

In the black-breath of midnight,

three figures twist through hollow woods,

their hearts as one, pounding—

a frantic cadence, thick as fog.

Behind them, footsteps pulse, heavy with intent,

a shadow that breathes and hungers,

his blade a glinting promise,

cold as river stones in the dark.

They clasp each other's hands—

fingers laced with fear, trembling heat,

sharing breaths that taste like secrets,

like earth, like grave moss, like home.

Ahead, only mist, twisting branches,

and the whisper of leaves that part for none.

[weaverofbones]

Ghosts

In their embrace, the world fades into a swirling mist,

and the very fabric of connection is redefined,

for they are not merely lovers,

but a congregation of kindred spirits,

searching for solace amid the ruins of the night,

where shadows cradle their secrets,

and the echoes of longing weave a bond

that binds them in a unity deeper than flesh.

[weaverofbones]

Fractured Mirrors

In the glare of averted eyes,

soft murmurs drift through shadowed corners,

where love finds itself bound in quiet chains,

and wandering hearts meet guarded brows,

the air weighted, expectant,

as walls close over fragile truths.

In crowded spaces,

thick with the hush of unspoken rules,

each bond unfurls like a wild bloom,

bright against barren soil,

as watchful eyes carve narrow paths.

Yet amid the thorn’s edge,

roots sink deeper,

seeking what defies constraint,

gathering light in the secret spaces,

a gentle revolt, unseen and certain,

where hearts thrive quietly, unbound.

[weaverofbones]

Resurrection

In the shadowed depths of the ancient forest,

three figures cloaked in whispers,

fingers entwined like gnarled roots.

Moonlight spills through skeletal branches,

illuminating the ground,

where moss cradles forgotten bones.

They gather, breath mingling with the chill,

casting glances heavy with loss,

as the air thickens with unspoken promises.

Chanting softly, their voices weave a tapestry of longing,

each word a thread binding them to the past.

A circle of stones, slick with dew,

holds the weight of their devotion.

With trembling hands, they raise the relics,

the remnants of laughter and midnight sighs,

hoping to summon warmth from the cold earth,

to ignite the flickering flame of love

lost beneath the darkened sky.

A crackle, a whisper, the ground stirs,

their hearts pulse with a frantic rhythm,

as shadows flicker and the night holds its breath.

Together, they call,

a prayer spun in desire,

to cradle the beloved once more

in their waiting arms.

[weaverofbones]

Friday the 13th

Three shadows rise in the fogged mirror’s edge,

fingers tracing cracks like old wounds,

whispers of laughter echo through dark pines,

layered breaths thick as night.

They walk toward me,

faces half-shrouded by hoods of black moss,

hungry eyes lit with a lust untempered,

each gaze a separate fire,

each step an unbroken promise.

In their hands, cold as lakewater,

I feel the pull of three threads entwining,

binding me deeper into dark woods,

into places I dare not tread alone—

and still, I go.

[weaverofbones]

Whispers in the Gloom

In the shadowed halls where the moonlight weeps,

Three souls entwined in secrets deep,

Their hearts like thorns, sharp and sweet,

Bound by desires no darkness can keep.

Silken whispers in the midnight air,

Lips like venom, tangled in despair,

Each kiss a dagger, each touch a spell,

In the silence of a crypt, they dwell.

Cloaked in shadows, they dance with the night,

Three figures moving in pale candlelight,

A lover's embrace, a ghostly sigh,

As shadows grow long and the candles die.

The first, a specter with eyes like coal,

Haunted by dreams of a fractured soul,

The second, a wraith with a smile so sly,

Promises whispered as they laugh and cry.

The third, a vision in tattered lace,

With hands like ice, they caress and trace,

Each curve of flesh, each shiver of skin,

A triad of passion, where none can win.

In the graveyard's heart, where the dead reside,

They meet in the dark and collide,

Under the gaze of the mournful stars,

A symphony played on heartstrings and scars.

But shadows have secrets, and secrets have pain,

For love, it seems, is a dark, winding chain.

Each heart, a prison, each soul, a tomb,

In the beauty of madness, they find their doom.

Yet still they gather, under the veil,

In whispers and laughter, they weave their tale,

A trinity formed in the echo of night,

In a world made for darkness, they find their light.

[weaverofbones]

Apocalypse

In the shadows of the moonlit graveyard,

three souls entwined in a dance in the dark,

fingers interlocked, love destined for darkness.

Once vibrant hearts now hollow,

their flesh a tattered remnant,

eyes glazed with the fog of lost memories.

They rise, driven by a hunger,

their whispers echoing through the night,

a soft lament for the warmth they once knew,

a yearning that gnaws at the edges of decay.

A solitary figure wanders,

drawn by a longing of his own,

finding beauty in their ghastly forms.

He gathers them close,

an embrace of rot and love,

their breath a chilling breeze,

yet he sees the spark of the living,

in the darkness of their death.

Together they roam,

the living and the dead,

bound by a bond that defies the grave,

in a world where love knows no end.

[weaverofbones]

Silent Radiance

In a world of vivid motion,

a quiet pulse lingers—

soft against the clamor,

where passion breathes in silence,

and love stirs in half-glances,

not in flames but in presence.

In the sway of want,

the steady rhythm of desire,

we hold still,

drawing strength from calm,

each moment an unspoken testament,

where connection drifts on gentle currents—

a calm within the storm’s edge.

In the gaze of distance,

the weight of unsaid words lingers,

yet beneath lies a quiet truth,

love—boundless, beyond form,

a spectrum steeped in color,

where the beauty of being seen

lives deeper than any touch,

woven into the fabric of quiet strength.

[weaverofbones]

Together

In the soft glow of evening light,

We share laughter, warmth, and delight.

Three hearts entwined in a dance so free,

You and I, and her, together, we.

Each touch a promise, each glance a spark,

We weave our stories, igniting the dark.

No need for limits, just love’s embrace,

In this shared space, we each find our place.

With every moment, our bond expands,

A journey shaped by open hands.

In the warmth of our love, we find our way,

Together, forever, come what may.