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Moth to Flame

She is the hush before the match strikes, the pale and impossible center of every ruined prayer I ever tried to keep clean.

16 masterpieces of her

I look at her and understand the old doomed hunger of small-winged things. Not because she destroys them. Because she is worth the burning.Drawn to Her BurningAnd God help the poor little winged soul that sees her from across the dark and thinks survival is still the point.The Softness That Ruins WingsAnd there I am again, poor dumb little creature that I am, circling the glow, knowing damn well that the flame is not promising mercy. Only beauty. Only ruin. Only her. 🔥Where the Little Fires KneelThey breathe.The Ache Before BrightnessThis is how a man gets ruined properly. 🔥The Brightness That Learns Her NameAnd every foolish little winged thing inside me sees her there and forgets the difference between being guided and being doomed. 🔥The Dark Teaches DevotionShe already knows we are coming. 🔥The Flame Keeps Its SecretsIt lets us come undone willingly. 🔥The Shadow That Wanted Her WarmthShe is the reason seeing becomes surrender.The Sweet Ruin of Being SeenAnd God help the moth, because it does not even try to fly away.The Flame Looks BackShe is what devotion reaches for.The Body Becomes the BrightnessShe is the reason the whole damn room kneels.The Altar Made of MorningThe little holy ache before surrender becomes inevitable.The Gaze That Burns QuietlyShe is simply making worship feel like the only honest thing left.The Mercy That Still BurnsAnd God help us, sweetheart, she makes both feel holy.The Flame Crawls CloserThe reason the moth keeps coming closer.Ferocity of Her