lepinn

The morning came too early. Jet lag still lingered from the long journey to Angama Mara, one of the most beautiful safari lodges in Africa, suspended high above the vast plains of the Maasai Mara, where time slows and the world breathes differently. The night had been wrapped in silence. Punctuated only by the occasional intrusion from the orchestra of crickets, but dawn arrived softly... carried on the ancient song of trees swaying in the pale gold light, their whispers older than memory. The air was alive. The early savannah soil of the Mara exhaled its moist, earthy breath, drifting through open screens and linen curtains, settling gently over us like a calming ritual. It moved through the room, through the sheets, through the quiet space between two hearts that had traveled far to arrive at this moment. Outside, the land stretched endlessly with soft grass brushed with dew, distant acacia silhouettes, the low call of waking wildlife across the Maasai Mara reminding us that love, li...

I've been staring at a blank canvas like a poet who has lost his heart I miss the days words bled into paper like seamless art These days it's chatgpt whenever I need a soothing sound It's ironic, turning to an algorithm to give emotions to a dying craft There's a lot I wanted to say to you, but much is hidden in the fear of not being good enough...I'm sorry it took me this long before I could pour into your life, I know these words can become a prophesy and a life line so you shouldn't have to ask. God gave me freely but I've been holding back. I've erased so much because it never sounded like me. lately I've been focused on sounding real than being real,so I lived so much on the surface my pieces lacked originality, a poet's peace comes from his reality but I wonder when it became ok for me to stop imagining. I was supposed to be the right man for you, but all I wonder now is how much of me is true. seems like honesty is overdue.  I know it...

Hey, Love... I see it. The weight. The silence behind your eyes. The battles no one claps for. But even in all that pressure, you still carry light. You were never meant to carry the whole war... just the oil. Joy, even when the night is thick. Peace, even when the winds lie. Rest, even while you walk through fire. You are not what you feel. You are not what left. You are not broken beyond repair. You are still His. Still crowned. Still chosen. Still seated in heavenly places... Even when the ground shakes beneath your feet. So breathe. Not because it's easy... but because He is still faithful. Let joy break in like dawn. Let peace flood like a river. Let rest hold you like you’ve held everyone else. I may not fully understand it. But I’m here... believing with you. For better days, for deeper healing, for heaven to kiss your name again.

🌺 BAHAMAS JOURNAL: “TIDE BETWEEN OUR THIGHS” Location: Kamalame Cay, Bahamas Room: Villa 17, Oceanfront Status: Completely, utterly, recklessly hers DAY 1 – ARRIVAL: HUNGER BEFORE SUNSET I didn’t know the ocean could make me ache... The second we stepped off the boat, the Bahamian air kissed us like it knew we were running from everything but each other. The heat clung to my skin...but it was your smile that undressed me first. You were in that sundress. Thin, loose, the color of sin...The wind flirted with its hem and revealed the edge of a secret I’d spend the whole trip chasing. You didn’t speak much as we walked through the palms to the villa, just looked back with that unholy smirk.... > “Hurry up,” you said. “I’m in the mood for breaking rules.” I should’ve known what that meant. By the time the door clicked behind us, you were already barefoot on the cool teak floors, skin glowing with sea salt and confidence. You walked past me, dropped your bag, and turned slowly. That rob...

By LENON There are moments when your presence hits me like incense in a still room... subtle, sweet… and suddenly everything in me wants to kneel and undress worship from the silence. Your skin, I have not touched. But I’ve memorized the lines your laughter makes, the curve of your thought, the way your peace walks into a room before your hands do. And I want you. Let me not pretend. I want the smell of your neck pressed against my breath. I want my hands to know your hips the way my prayers already do. I want full access... the light, the dark, the in-between you.  But I want more than that. Because see, if I have your body and lose your trust, I’ve traded a kingdom for a candle.  If I take you out of time, I make a thief of both of us... not just from God, but from the sacred garden we said we'd plant and wait to water. I’ve seen the kind of love that finishes fast. That eats with its hands, but never stays to wash the dishes. That unwraps the gift but leaves before the vows...

One year. Not a number. A testimony. Of what happens when prayer meets presence and patience falls in love with promise. You ... you’ve been the sunrise that stayed. The soft in the storm. The hymn I hum when silence feels like exile and deadlines steal my attention...ooh the deadlines... I’ve failed, faltered, but never… never stopped choosing you. You are the verse I keep writing in the margin of my life, the scripture God slid into my ribcage when He said, “Son, she is your home.” And home ... you are. In the curve of your laughter, the weight of your prayers, the strength in your silence when my words couldn’t find you. I remember nights you poured wine into my weariness, shouldered my storms like God had wired you for divine partnership. And maybe He did. Maybe that’s what covenant means .... not perfect Sundays or constant clarity but waking up on the 365th sunrise, still in love. Still leaning in. Still willing. So this morning, my queen, I don’t just say, “Happy Ann...