Tag Archives: perky breasts

if…

Dear Gentle Sir,

When I say your name, my heart rumbles
much like a lion roars when it knows it’s right.
If only we could know the future, we might roar more.

xo

if freckles were lovely, and day was night
and measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie
life would be delight
but things couldn’t go right
for in such a sad plight
i wouldn’t be i

if earth was heaven and now was hence
and past was present and false was true
there might be some sense
but I’d be in suspense
for on such a pretense
you wouldn’t be you.

if fear was plucky, and globes were square
and dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
things would seem fair
yet they’d all despair
for if here was there
we wouldn’t be we.

— e.e cummings —

des communs élans…

des communs élans

 

 

 

She the river that wears down stone
and makes new caves in my body
For me to crawl into and laugh and splash in
In the warm and wet and small places where there is no shame.

Electric Youth

handle with care…

handle with careOh my fuck, I can’t stand it.
I can’t stand
not touching you.
I can’t stand not feeling your eyes on me.
I need to touch you
and be touched by you.
I need to hear you moan as you watch my pleasure.
I need to taste you with my everything.

so
.
many
.
needs

So, when I grab your hand and lead you into the bedroom, it’s not on sudden impulse; my tug is a longstanding ache of horny that has been needing you in unspeakably hot and naughty ways.

not a bird or a symbol…

not-a-bird-or-a-symbol

… a woman burning.

 

 

 

 

What ache would you deny?
I celebrate
the wax and its sun, the wingless
skeleton,    my silt      my swoon.

— Katie Longofono —

https://i1.wp.com/adissolutelifemeans.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/photo1.jpg?resize=52%2C52

salty treats…

salty treat 2

Suddenly missing your mouth…

salty treat 1

 

open invitation…

open invitation

You have such a pretty mouth.
To feed it only kisses
would be a wasted opportunity.

— Michael Faudet —

 

to autumn…

Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

to autumn

— William Blake —

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