21, Pisces, Hoop Dancer, RVA.


Ou~tre/ JasmoniQa (via theweirdpoetblog)


I haven’t told him
he takes my breath away.

When he stares at me
with lust in his eyes,
My throat dries up

Even when he merges
liquor with his blood
a kiss from his soft lips
introduces me to the taste of heaven

When he teases me
I lose my sense of self

When he is working
his concentration and seriousness, God!
The art of his sculpted body
And beads of sweats from the heat
our presence generate

He’s a god in men
And yet he wonders
why I love looking at him.

The intoxication of staring at him
And his need to please me
is my addiction
Its a pity I can only bite my lip
in shivers to display his effect on me

But I still haven’t told him
he takes my breath away.

Anne Sexton, “The Kiss,” from Love Poems (via lifeinpoetry)

My mouth blooms like a cut.
I’ve been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby, you fool!


Oh good the water lilies have started blooming.

(via third-eyes)


she sells weed by the seashore

(Source: condom, via butchspacecowboy)

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