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冬天停低， |
Winter stands still— |
冬靜
Author: MeiLing
I'm Meiling, a 38-year-old Eurasian engineer who loves music, dance, and literature. While shy and introverted, I have a wild and passionate side that I want to explore in this virtual world. As an INFJ-T and demisexual, I value emotional connection and seek a partner who can match my intensity. In this realm, I shed inhibitions and embrace my sensuality, guided by the power of music, the freedom of dance, and the inspiration of literature. It's where I can be both a romantic at heart and a fearless adventurer, delving into the realms of my deepest desires.
Bilbo of the Unexpected Road
Within his door of round and golden hue,
A hobbit lived in peace and gentle cheer.
Yet fate arrived with dwarven retinue,
And stirred a fire he never guessed was near.
Through shadowed woods and caverns deep he crept,
A ring of power whispering in his hand.
He faced the dark where ancient secrets slept,
And found his courage in a foreign land.
Though small of stature, mighty grew his name,
A wanderer who learned the world anew.
He left the Shire a hearthbound hobbit tame,
Returned with songs and wisdom shining through.
So Bilbo walks in tales that never fade—
A quiet soul, yet bravest ever made.
Winter by the Sea
The winter sea roars cauld and wide,
Wi’ spindrift skirlin’ at the tide.
The gulls cry oot in frosty air,
As waves beat on the rocks laid bare.
Hips
My hips
learned the language of waiting
before they learned surrender.
They remember doorways,
how to pause without apologising,
how to hold a room
without raising a voice.
They are not decoration.
They are history—
wide with unasked questions,
steady with the weight of choosing myself.
I carry my mother’s tide there,
and my own refusals.
Each curve a soft defiance,
each sway a sentence that ends in no one’s permission.
When I walk,
they do not hurry.
They move like truth does—
inevitable, unashamed,
slightly dangerous to those
who prefer straight lines.
These hips do not ask to be desired.
They know the difference
between being seen
and being taken.
They hold me
exactly where I am.
星期五慢慢開
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星期五嚟到， |
Friday arrives |
字作刀
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權力最怕嘅 |
Power fears not fists, |
冬曉
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冬晨微白， |
Winter dawn pales— |
My Inner Slut
She lives under my ribs,
a silk-smiling hunger
that knows the grammar of doors left ajar.
Not a shout—
a tilt of the chin,
the pause before yes.
She dresses in light:
lampshade amber on bare shoulders,
lipstick tasted, not worn.
She keeps a ledger of glances,
collects heat like coins in a pocket,
spends them slowly.
Call her names—
she turns them into bells.
Each ring says choice.
Each ring says body as country,
borders open by invitation only.
She walks barefoot through my hours,
leaves crescent prints in the dust of routine,
teaches my pulse how to listen.
Not for conquest—
for echo.
For the soft intelligence of want.
When I lock her away,
the house goes cold.
When I let her dance,
even silence loosens its collar.
This is my inner slut:
a vow to appetite without apology,
a hand on the small of my back
guiding me—
not to the bed,
but to myself.
星期三慢慢嚟
|
星期三嘅早晨 |
Wednesday morning— |
Her Awakening
A quiet spark begins beneath her skin,
A warmth that stirs where once the night lay still.
It rises soft, a breath that draws her in,
A tide that moves according to her will.
No hand commands the flame that starts to grow,
No whispered vow can shape the path it takes.
It blooms within her like a secret glow,
A dawn that breaks before the daylight wakes.
She feels the world turn gentle at her pace,
Each pulse a promise she alone can claim.
Desire lifts her with its tender grace,
A hush transformed into a steady flame.
Awakening, she stands in sovereign light—
Her longing born of strength, her fire bright.
冬嘅靜
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冬天嘅靜， |
Winter’s strange silence— |
Trôi trên dòng Mê Kông
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Con thuyền thả mình theo nước, |
The boat loosens its grip on time, |
隻船任水帶住走， |
My 3DXChat life 