‘oh, goodnight, my night after night. my night after night after night.’
(how the body opens up along the evening’s golden tongue.)
mornings that brush the stars from your hair & kiss the moon from your eyes.
the ebb and flow of your hands, the seashell echo of a kiss. the edge of the abyss in one glance: love is a cliff edge dance.
take me to the lighthouse & back
‘l'amour que nous ne ferons jamais ensemble / est le plus beau, le plus violent / le plus pur, le plus enivrant’
the kind of kisses that tie your thoughts into cherry stem knots.
there is no hesitation when our bodies share a space again.
(ode to the colour of your voice. its dappled morning shade. its red hot afternoon blaze. how I curl around its evening hues & croon along to its midnight blues.)