The Siren's Echo

Her eyes weave silent tales, Noir goddess, shadowed in grace, Her gaze cuts through miles, My heart kneels to her face. Crimson lips, a quiet storm, Black silk drapes her form, Each pose hums with mystery, Desire burns, fierce and warm. Her stillness speaks in whispers, Film noir’s timeless, sultry frame, Her eyes hold starlit stories, They call my soul by name. Distance aches, yet love endures, H...

We knelt in the cathedral of our ruin, your hands red to the wrist, mine trembling with the weight of every vow we were about to break. Your name dripped from my fingers; mine bled from your bitten lips. Two hymns, twin sorrows, spilling into the same open grave. The night split open to witness us, not sinner and offering, not worshipper and sacrifice, but two acolytes of the same forbidden flame....

Quiet Corners Give me a quiet corner or booth, Some place low-lit, warm, and smooth. Where the food tastes like art, Where the world slows its breath, Where we don’t rush a single part. Exquisite plates between us, Steam rising like a secret. Your voice soft, your laughter bright— A rhythm that turns ordinary hours into night. Your knee brushes mine, Your hand trails a promise along the edge of my...

18+ He always woke slowly, caught somewhere between dreams and the weight of morning, but he knew her touch before anything else. Soft fingertips drifting over his skin, tracing him like she did every morning, like she wanted to memorize him all over again. He kept his breathing even, not out of pretense, but because he loved letting her think he was still deep in sleep. Loved feeling her move ove...

18+ She always woke before he did. She loved that time…listening to his steady breath, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, his face softened by sleep and impossibly handsome. She could study him for hours and never feel the slightest pull of boredom. She’d let the quiet stretch before she reached for him, tracing lazy patterns along his skin with her fingertips. Down his arm, up to his s...

Will you want me when you know I live most days in sweats? Will you like me when I show My small, imperfect bits? Will you want me when you see I’m moody, brash or slow? Will you desire the rest of this, Not just the parts I show?\ Will you want me when you learn I’m not running away? Will you be able to love me too Long after we’ve gone grey? I want the parts of you No one gets to see. And cheris...

Not the honest kind that gleam in a mouth, but the soft, invisible kind that close around a thought before it can form a sound. It starts with a pause at the edge of speech, a word you almost say, then swallow. The quiet thickens, attentive, like something crouching just beyond the lamp. In that hush, every heartbeat sounds like footsteps in the attic. You begin counting them, to prove they are yo...

I love unmade hearts, and bedrooms that look like the inside of a Sunday mind— sheets kicked to the floor, books spined open, a half‑finished cup of tea still wearing someone’s lipstick. I love 3 a.m. kitchens, when someone is drunk enough to cry into the sink and honest enough to tell you why. Mascara rivers, shaking hands on chipped mugs, the way they apologize for “being a mess” while accidenta...

Speak to me softly Ever, so gently Let your gentle voice Be a sweet lullaby The one that helps Me sleep soundly, all through the night Hold me, in your sacred warmth Love me, in metaphors Paint my dreams The colour of your love Let us meet somewhere In the astral plane To continue this sacred Holy, eternal encounter Let sleep not be That which separates us For you, and I will never part I will mee...

Original Poem by @thriftygirl365 Loving you is bittersweet like dark chocolate melting slowly on the tongue A tenderness that lingers even when the night feels long Your name drifts through my thoughts like smoke in winter air A warmth I chase, a shadow I can never quite ensnare You are the soft ache in a half-remembered song A pulse beneath silence steady and strong I taste your absence like salt...

Thanks for reading AnureetWrites! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com

Thanks for reading AnureetWrites! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com

A reading of Page 1. Thanks for reading AnureetWrites! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com

Same as Episode 1 with subtle background ambient sounds. Thanks for reading AnureetWrites! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com

Thanks for reading AnureetWrites! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com

Thanks for reading AnureetWrites! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com

the charcoal slate blue resting state of a melancholic existence that is absolutely fine because there is a spectrum we all exist within but it is a narrative not often told as they just want you to have a Pollyanna-esque existence existing in a pink & sparkly glow but you don’t want that & you are not that, so you try not to be like that so you embrace who you are just as you are & the glow is en...

What is pink? a rose is pink By a fountain’s brink. What is red? a poppy’s red In its barley bed. What is blue? the sky is blue Where the clouds float thro’. What is white? a swan is white Sailing in the light. What is yellow? pears are yellow, Rich and ripe and mellow. What is green? the grass is green, With small flowers between. What is violet? clouds are violet In the summer twilight. What is...

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone ? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the gol...

A soothing walk through an English Garden. Fictitious, as I’m not a gardener, so the plants I feature grow all year round :-). © 2025 𝒜𝓃𝓊𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓉 Thanks for reading AnureetWrites! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com