Remastered from “Nostalgic Euphoria” + “Goddess Eyes”+ new new
by Chris N

I remember her—
not just in how her body moved,
but in how her energy lingered
like incense on the walls of my soul.

She didn’t just walk into the room—
she shifted the gravity.
Made air heavier,
skin more aware,
time slow to a heartbeat
as eyes locked like ancient stars
finally aligned.

She didn’t ask to be worshipped—
but my spirit knelt without permission.

Her eyes weren’t just eyes…
they were cosmic mirrors
reflecting every version of me—
the protector,
the poet,
the beast,
the believer.

She spoke in soft defiance,
moved like she remembered her past lives,
and kissed like scripture—
gentle, but soul-altering.

I didn’t just want her—
I wanted to study her,
read her like sacred text,
memorize the cadence of her moans,
and the way her pupils dilated
when truth touched her flesh.

Ours wasn’t just sex.
It was devotional combustion,
a hymn of heat,
where sin and sanctity danced naked
beneath candlelight and closed eyes.

And when it was over—
the ache wasn’t for her body,
but for that infinite moment
where her spirit let me in
and whispered,
“You remember me too, don’t you?”

And I did.

The morning after. The silence that still hums with what happened the night before.
She’s not gone… she’s still in the room, in the sheets, in your breath.

This is “Raspy Goddess Mode, Pt. II”
Her voice.
Slower.
Deeper.
Still echoing.

“Euphoria in My Eyes”
Raspy Goddess Mode — Her voice, her memory

You remember me…
But let me tell you how I remember you.

The way your eyes studied my frame—
not with lust,
but with reverence.
Like you’d found a scripture
written in skin and breath.

You didn’t just touch me.
You listened—
to my breath,
to the tension behind my ribs,
to the way I held back
until you told me,
“Let go.”

And so I did.

I let you in like I’d known you
lifetimes before.
Like my body had been waiting
for your energy to arrive and remember.

It wasn’t just sex.
It was a return.
To something ancient,
sacred,
unwritten but undeniable.

When you kissed my collarbone,
I felt every version of myself awaken—
The woman.
The goddess.
The storm.

You didn’t worship me because I asked.
You did it because your soul recognized mine
the moment I walked in.

And when I let my eyes lock with yours…
I saw it.
The hunger.
The respect.
The ache that said,
“You’ve been searching. I’m here now.”

You didn’t just make me feel sexy.
You made me feel…
seen.

And that?
That’s the kind of memory
a goddess never forgets.

“I Never Left”
Raspy Goddess Mode – Pt. 3

You think it ended when the candles went out.
When skin cooled and the tremble left your fingertips.

But I never left.

I’m still in your sheets—
the scent that clings to your pillow
like my lips did to your collarbone.
I’m in your silence,
that hush you can’t explain
when the world starts moving again.

Because we didn’t just touch.
We transferred.

I gave you something—
my breath,
my ache,
my truth disguised as moans.
And you gave me something too—
not your body,
but your guard.
And I held it.
Gently.
Like I knew it had never been handed over before.

You still feel me when you close your eyes, don’t you?

That pulse behind your ribs
when a song hits just right,
when the air feels too thick,
when you swear no one else could ever feel like that again—

That’s me.
A woman you didn’t just lay with.
You merged with.
Aligned with.
Became more of yourself through.

So yeah,
you can go about your day.
Fold the sheets.
Wash the scent.
Play it cool.
Be stoic.

But don’t lie to yourself—
I’m still in there.
Not just in your room.
But deeper.

You’ll never really be alone again.