poetry

These are the pocket-sized spells, dusty boots, bright stars, kiss-soft disasters. Read one, feel it for hours

James Goss 9/9/25 James Goss 9/9/25

Salt & Cinder

Salt-wet fingers lace with ash-dusted ones on a moonlit shore, embers bloom where they touch as the lighthouse cuts the dark.

James Goss 9/8/25 James Goss 9/8/25

The ache I choose, silk-sleeved, honey-dark. Nothing gentle, only precise.

James Goss 9/7/25 James Goss 9/7/25

A candle on a blade, a kiss that ruins tomorrow. We pocket the moon and call it love.

James Goss 8/4/25 James Goss 8/4/25

A lantern bearer meets a wolf in a moonlit forest, danger and desire circling the same flame.