Dark Devotion

Hear me out.

This whole roses, chocolates, neat little heart-shaped version of Valentine’s Day. Cute. Safe. Manageable. Love trimmed down, choking in powdered pink.

Give me dark velvet red, shiny bracelets, black binds and dripping candles.

A dim room where lust and desire spill past reason, take up too much space, change the air I breathe. A dark possession that rearranges everything, rewires my brain, the very fabric of my being.

I am talking about the kind of devotion that refuses moderation. The kind that protects without hesitation, that chooses someone and reshapes the world around that choice. Fierce. Excessive. Unhinged, maybe. But real.

While everyone else exchanges paper hearts and sweet little promises, join me in celebrating the overwhelming, consuming love that does not ask permission to exist.

Happy Valentine.

Dark Devotion

They call it madness,
as if a fire this bright could be contained
by a word so small as love.

Let the world keep its paper hearts and sugared lies.
I have no interest in a love that breathes quietly;
I want the kind that chokes the air,
that demands the oxygen from every room
until there is only you.

If the horizon ever dared to shadow your light,
I would take a match to the sky.
I would peel the stars from their cold perches
just to feel the heat of your smile against the dark.

They say love is a sanctuary,
but for me, it is a siege.
I am the wall, the blade, and the torch.
There is no map I wouldn’t redraw,
no empire I wouldn’t reduce to ash and rubble
if it meant your light never dimmed.

Let it all burn.
The cities, the history, the very ground beneath us.
I would stand in the center of the inferno,
blackened and hollowed out,
holding you above the flames,
the only thing worth saving
from the ruin.

You are the beginning of the world,
and I will gladly be its end.