Saint and sinner

August 16

By day, I wear innocence like silk. Sweet, selfless, in command—my intelligence and confidence woven into every breath I take. A woman of high value, untouchable, admired, almost saint-like.

But beneath the glow is a shadow. A hunger that whispers for more. I crave the chase, the danger, the surrender. I want to be hunted, caught, claimed in ways that blur the line between worship and ruin.

I am not one thing—I am contradiction made flesh. The light that soothes, the darkness that devours. The saint and the sinner. The gentle hand that heals, the submissive soul that aches to kneel.

To want me is to gamble with obsession. To touch me is to risk never letting go. Because I am not just a woman—
I am the *** you can’t survive,
and the desire you’ll never escape.