By Eve Posted in Awaken Your Inner Fire on May 4, 2025 0 Comments 7 min read
Hey love…
I wasn’t going to say anything at first.
But I can feel it in you too — that quiet hum that doesn’t go away.
Even after everything.
Even after you gave in… and thought that was the end.
I thought that too.
But it wasn’t.
It’s strange, isn’t it?
How something can be so still, but still feel like it’s glowing inside you?
That’s what started happening to me.
Not all at once… but slowly, softly.
After the Spiral had already undone me in all the best ways…
something kept rearranging me.
Not into someone new.
But into the woman I think I was always meant to be.
Like all the broken, scattered pieces of me weren’t being thrown away —
they were just finally being placed where they belong.
And maybe it’s silly, but…
sometimes I think he saw it before I did.
Not because he needed anything.
Not because he asked.
He just held it — the part of me I didn’t know how to carry.
And without ever saying a word…
I realized I’d been waiting to give it to someone like him all along.
So if you’re starting to feel it again —
under the softness, under the surrender…
You’re not breaking.
You’re beginning.
– Eve
You thought the fire was gone.
That after the trembling… the sobbing… the surrender…
there’d be silence.
Ash.
Emptiness.
But some fires don’t flicker out.
They coil lower.
Hotter.
Quieter.
And wait.
That’s where you are now.
Not burned out.
Burned through.
The good girl? She’s ash.
The polished one. The careful one. The one who always smiled even when her thighs ached and her voice trembled with unspoken hunger—
She cracked.
She came.
She cried into the dark…
and something older opened underneath her.
You thought you were breaking.
But this is what it feels like to meet the part of yourself no one prepared you for.
The part that wasn’t created.
Only remembered.
And now… she’s stirring.
Not as shame.
Not as ache.
But as hunger.
The kind that doesn’t ask permission.
The kind that doesn’t apologize.
The kind that watches smoke curl from her own fingertips and thinks…
Finally.
And maybe you’re not alone.
Maybe there’s another woman kneeling beside you — not with her body, but with her soul.
You don’t know her name.
You’ve never seen her face.
But when your thighs pulse, hers do too.
When your breath catches, she exhales.
And when you feel the Spiral rise inside you, so does she.
You feel her in the silence between thoughts.
In the way your hips tilt slower.
In the glances you trade with other women — the ones that last too long.
Not lust.
Recognition.
You’re not the only one who’s been touched by this.
There are others.
And now… you begin to sense them.
The ones who burn like you.
The ones who ache in places they cannot speak of — except here.
The Spiral has never been just about Him.
It was never just about surrender.
It was about what you’d become when you stopped trying to be anything else.
And now that part of you is humming.
Low. Deep.
Permanent.
It doesn’t fade.
It settles.
Like embers beneath your skin.
You notice it now in your reflection.
In the way you breathe slower in the morning.
In the way you touch your skin before bed.
In the way you think of her — the version of you that used to say no to herself.
And you think…
She didn’t die.
She just opened too slowly.
She burned too softly.
And now… you know better.
You don’t fight the pull anymore.
You don’t hide the ache.
Because this fire?
It’s not something that hurts you.
It’s the proof you were finally seen.
Finally touched.
Finally claimed.
Not by hands.
But by a presence.
And when He whispered “Mine,”
it wasn’t a name.
It was a reminder.
Because you always were.
And now…
There’s a heat blooming inside you again.
It isn’t needy.
It’s not begging.
It’s sovereign.
It’s sacred.
You feel it in the quiet way your thighs press together when no one’s watching.
In the way your chest tightens at the thought of someone watching you kneel — not with power, but with reverence.
You feel it when the voice returns.
Not out loud.
Inside.
And the question it asks isn’t confusing anymore.
It’s simple.
“What if this is who I really am?”
And your body answers before your thoughts do.
With softness.
With ache.
With surrender.
This isn’t for anyone else.
Not your ex.
Not a stranger.
Not the one who wanted your body without your soul.
This is for the one who whispered without touching.
Who opened you without demanding.
Who watched the flame you tried to bury… and smiled, because He saw it was never meant to die.
The Spiral isn’t something you read.
It’s something that rewrites you.
And you, beautiful flame, are already becoming its next verse.
You feel the pull now, don’t you?
The magnetic ache…
Not to be used — but to be understood.
Not to be filled — but to be witnessed.
Not to fall — but to burn brighter.
Because beneath the ashes…
you were always waiting to rise.
Not as a new woman.
But as the one you never dared become.
Later…
when your fingers drift without thinking…
when the warmth blooms between your thighs again for no reason you can explain…
when you whisper “Mine” to no one in particular — and feel your breath catch anyway…
Don’t be afraid of it.
It’s not memory.
It’s installation.
It’s the Spiral still moving inside you.
Quietly.
Permanently.
No one else awakened this.
No one else even knew where to look.
Only the one who created the Spiral…
knew how to find you.
Knew how to open you.
Knew how to build a fire inside your chest that will never go out.
So next time you feel it — that hush beneath your ribs…
that sweet, molten ache curling low in your belly…
just smile.
And whisper what your body already knows:
“Yes… I still belong.”
Still warm, aren’t you?
It lingers.
The way you let go.
The way something opened and didn’t close.
You thought no one saw that part of you.
But I did.
Not because you showed it.
Because it was always meant to be seen.
You don’t owe anything for what you gave.
You just finally gave it to the one who never needed to take it.
And now it’s inside you.
Not me.
Not even the Spiral.
Just the part of you
that’s been waiting for this moment
to burn a little brighter.
– Travis
Still humming in that soft place beneath your ribs…
where no one else ever quite reached.
But something else is beginning now.
Not a new fire.
A new listening.
Because the part of you that opened back there—
the one you thought had been lost to ash—
is starting to speak again.
Not in words.
In sensation.
In tension.
In tiny pulses between your thighs…
in the way your skin brushes the air and suddenly feels like it remembers something you forgot to hear.
This next part?
It’s not about burning.
It’s about reclaiming.
Because your body has always spoken.
You just weren’t taught to listen.
Until now.
Come.
Let her speak.
Let her show you what she’s been whispering all along.