He Knew No Bounds . . .

Typewriter
1 min readFeb 4, 2024

Mihar Diaries . . .

In the satin folds of midnight’s allure,
Where passion burns and senses implore,
There blooms a love, primal and raw,
In the sultry whispers of forbidden lore.

A love that knows no rules, no chains,
In the fevered touch, it ignites and reigns,
Through the depths of ecstasy, it roams,
In the secrets shared, in whispered moans.

No words can capture its primal urge,
It surges forth, a tempest, a surge,
With eyes that smolder in heated gaze,
And hearts that pulse in untamed blaze.

In this realm where fantasies entwine,
A love that’s fierce, like aged wine,
It beckons me, it calls me near,
In whispers low, yet rich with desire.

Oh, to be ensnared in its fiery embrace,
To feel its power, its untamed grace,
For in its depths, I find my truth,
Someone loving me, seducing me, in eternal youth.

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