ragewrites:

“and you perfume her feet with your kiss —
smearing cassia across the hollow plain of bone,
anointing her ankles with a mouth fervent,
with teeth devout, trembling hands curling higher
in obsecration on the vertex of her calf. you think her moon-made, vespertine;
nightfall given form, her skin a silken dusk under
the purpure of an irreverent négligée —
and she is an ache within your flesh, a firmament
dyed deep in sorrows and in solitude. and you are willow-grown with it —
oh, how easily your body cedes to her gravitas
as pale fingers find your nape, pulling you
toward the dark soils of her center; your palms
burn on the curve of her thighs, contented.”

—   tonight, sanctify the devil you know
  september 16th, 2018  / /  lianna schreiber