I will not be just a tourist in the world of images, just watching images passing by which I cannot live in, make love to, possess as permanent sources of joy and ecstasy~
anais nin
this is my spirit and how it pushes and pulls against the detachment of dressing up pretty, feeling the sun warm on my back, as we lay on the rocks, dancing in the morning in the kitchen, falling asleep in your arms, waking to steal the light turning in the morning, waking to you inside me somehow, as we fall into each other deeper and deeper. How those arms can lift me wherever you would want me, but you don't even see me. You see my smallness, and the curve of my belly your hands pulling me wherever you would want me, you see my eyes and my lips, but my heart...the fragile paper thin transparency of my soul, how my heart would want to open to you when I kiss you so deep it reaches to my belly...your picturesque body and how, with that, you have probably had it all handed to you. And how you belong with a simple girl of simple pleasures...And how you have no idea, that I am nothing of the sort.

No comments:

Post a Comment