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Cartoon cover art of gabro in a dark bathroom, wearing sunglasses and long sleeves, sweating as he writes “D.E.S.I.R.E. (THE POEM)” in flaming letters on a mirror with a fire-tipped lipstick, orange and purple light glowing around him.

🖼️ THE STORYBOARDS

EP 22

v1.0.0

3 min

Audio drop coming soon.

This STORYBOARD is a sweat-slick confession from the part of the heart that knows better and still crawls back to the flame. “D.E.S.I.R.E. (the poem)” lives in that bruised-blue space between lust, grief, memory, and obsession, where a body keeps wanting what the soul knows might wreck it. It reads like a bathroom mirror prayer after sex, a late-night breakdown with good lighting, a love wound still humming under the skin. The piece is raw on purpose. It does not clean itself up for dignity. It lets longing stay messy, queer, needy, dramatic, and painfully alive. At its core, this STORYBOARD is about craving connection so hard it feels holy, even when it burns.

🎰 The Drop: This STORYBOARD had to be written for the people who still ache after the song ends. It came from that dangerous little space where heartbreak, lust, memory, and fantasy all start making out in the dark. Not clean closure. Not healed-girl wisdom. Just the truth, hot and shaking.
♠️ The Vibe: Lipstick on a fogged mirror. Blue bruises under orange firelight. Sweaty, haunted, sensual, and half-kneeling at the altar of somebody who already left. It feels like a queer midnight prayer with mascara in its mouth and smoke in its lungs.
♦️ House Rules: Wanting deeply does not make you weak. Feeling too much does not make you foolish. Just make sure your desire serves your truth, not your disappearance. Burn bright if you need to, but do not let anybody erase your name from your own mouth.
♣️ Dealer’s Note: Some tracks heal. Some tracks bleed. This one does both. Play it loud, kiss carefully, and keep your pulse on beat.

PRESS PLAY ABOVE. ✦ DIM THE LIGHTS. ✦ ENTER THE STORYBOARD…

D.E.S.I.R.E. (the poem)

You ever ache so good you crave the pain again?

Yeah, this one’s for the fools like me. The ones who want the fire even after the burn. The ones who spell out “desire” like a prayer, a curse, a shot of tequila whispered into a stranger’s ear.

❤️‍🔥🔥❤️‍🔥🔥❤️‍🔥
This is D.E.S.I.R.E., but not the song.
❤️‍🔥🔥❤️‍🔥🔥❤️‍🔥

This is the blackout poem you write in lipstick on the bathroom mirror after sex. This is the late-night voice note you never send…

I want the kind of kiss that comes with risk, not love, not lust, just a flick of the wrist, your hand on my throat saying, “You sure?” And me saying nothing, because silence is pure.

You call it toxic, I call it home, You left me cracked but I carved you in bone. I’ve sucked the ghost from your memory’s skin, Lit candles for shadows and called it a win.

gabro, wearing his signature sunglasses and a fitted black shirt, stands in a dimly lit gym illuminated by candles. He gently places a finger under the chin of a muscular man with a pink mohawk who leans in close, about to kiss him. A glowing speech bubble above gabro reads, “You sure?” The scene blends flirtation, tension, and humor against the backdrop of treadmills, weights, and neon gym signage.

I built a cathedral of moans and regret, Still kneel at the altar, still soaking wet. A body remembers what a mouth might deny. You never said love, but you whispered goodbye.

Your lies were silk and I wore them proud, Strutted through hell in your voice out loud. They all saw a flirt, a tease, a game, But you saw the boy still crying your name.

gabro, wearing sunglasses and a black long-sleeve shirt, kneels on the floor of a dim, cathedral-like room. He’s sweating dramatically, hands clasped in prayer, with puddles forming beneath him. In front of him is an altar lit by glowing candles and a large neon cross. Above the cross, a neon sign reads “REGRET.” The scene is humorous and over-the-top, blending melodrama with sacred imagery.

D.E.S.I.R.E., don’t ever say it’s really over. Don’t call it empty if it still pulls me closer. Even if your hands were fake on my spine, Even if forever was never mine.

F.I.R.E., fuck it, I’d still beg in Spanish, Dame mentira, let the truth vanish. I’ll take your sin in the form of a smile, Just stay for an hour, or maybe a while.

gabro, wearing sunglasses and a black long-sleeve shirt, stands in a neon-lit casino holding a shirtless man close with one hand on his chest. The shirtless man leans in with a dreamy, content smile. Behind them, warm neon signs glow with the word “DESIRE” and a slot machine labeled “FIRE,” adding a playful, seductive mood to the scene.

You made me want what I shouldn’t need, Made me bleed pretty, made heartbreak chic. And yeah, maybe I wrote a song for the pain, But this? This is the poem where I come insane.

I still dance with your ghost in my dreams, Still moan your name in whispered screams. I’m soft, I’m slutty, I’m cruel when I cry, I’ll call you a bastard then ask you why.

gabro, wearing sunglasses and a black outfit, stands sweating and distressed on a disco dance floor as a glowing blue ghostly figure of a man wraps gentle arms around him from behind. Colorful lights, silhouettes of dancers, and a martini glass set the club atmosphere while the neon sign “DISCO” glows above them. The scene captures a mix of emotion, nostalgia, and haunting affection.

Why you left your scent in my sheets, Why your goodbye still tastes so sweet. I’m the boy who burns with every breath, But still sucks smoke like a kiss from death.

Desire isn’t red, it’s bruise-colored blue, It’s aching for someone who’s aching for you. And maybe this poem is messy and raw, But baby, that’s the point. That’s the law.

gabro sits on the edge of a bed surrounded by glowing blue flames, wearing his signature sunglasses and a black shirt, leaning back as a translucent blue ghost-man leans in to kiss him. The ghost’s hand rests gently on gabro’s chest, their faces inches apart. The background is a dreamy purple night sky with small stars, creating an intimate, surreal, and emotional atmosphere.

So call me dramatic, call me obsessed, But I’ll spell out your name in every breath. I’ll fuck like a prayer, I’ll cry like a song, Because love isn’t fake just because it went wrong.

I was always yours, in the way ruins belong, In the way that destruction still sings along. You were the lie I wanted to believe, And I still do, every time I breathe.

Cartoon-style neon illustration of gabro sitting in dramatic ruins lit by purple and orange flames. He wears sunglasses, a long-sleeve black shirt, and jeans, crying with one hand clenched to his chest and the other reaching outward. Behind him, the word “OBSESSED” glows in large neon letters, with the Spanish translation “obsesionado” beside it. The scene feels emotional, theatrical, and queer-nightlife inspired.

So love me, hate me, fuck me, spank me,
Just don’t erase me.
I swear to God,
don’t erase me…

🍒🎰🧃🌈🫦🎲🫦🌈🧃🎰🍒

Straight, gay, confused… if this stirred something, show love. 💸

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🍒🎰🧃🌈🫦🎲🫦🌈🧃🎰🍒

🍷 First Pour: August 2, 2025 🥀 Last Touch: April 26, 2026

🎭 Revues: Poetry & Panic

🗝️ Motifs: artistic heartbreak, desire poem, heartbreak confession, LGBTQ+ love poems, modern queer literature, queer poetry, raw emotional poems, sensual poetry