As I sit here, pen in hand, my thoughts drift to the electric pulse of the club, a place where the world blurs into a haze of lights and rhythm. It’s a space where I find myself searching, chasing something fleeting—a spark, a connection, a moment of lust that feels like it could ignite my very soul. I confess, my heart is restless, caught in a dance between longing and surrender. My mind lingers on the club, where shadows and desires intertwine. I’m drawn to the allure of someone who captivates me, someone whose presence sets my spirit ablaze.

I look to her, to that fleeting dream of passion, hoping to hold onto something real before time erodes me. I fear that without her—without that fire—my soul might crumble, turning to dust in the quiet of unfulfilled yearning. In her hands, I imagine a world where desire breathes life into me. She is the one I dream of, the one who could mould my fleeting hopes into something eternal. Yet, there’s a weight to this longing, a fear that my spirit might harden, turning to crust under the pressure of wanting what may never be mine. This is my confession, my truth laid bare. The club is more than a place—it’s a mirror of my heart’s quiet ache, a reminder of the fire I seek and the fragility of my own spirit. I write this to you because you, more than anyone, might understand this restless search for something that feels like forever.

Poem Tread :

Club…(Poem)

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