February 2012
12 posts
the breath of nine thousand doves: (001/100) →
lithely:
Tonight I’m kept awake by the memory of his earlobes and the way they’d flush a deeper shade of crimson with the onset of mirth. I think about kissing them, stroking them with an index finger, disturbing them with my murmurs. When he slept atop flannelette sheets, his earlobes were the first to…
the breath of nine thousand doves: Brass birdcage. →
lithely:
Grains of his earthy voice have been eroded with the passing of time, but I suppose that’s what it means to forget, isn’t it? It’s about collecting past embraces and using them to heat your coffee. It’s about stitching all of the times you’ve touched a person together and giving the twine a…
(002/100)
lithely:
If there is anything more beautiful than the act of finding flecks of burnt sienna on your flesh, or counting the chestnut constellations spanning your chest, I am yet to discover it. You are scarred and flawless. The hazel of your hairline haunts me; the sorrel shades of you shoulder blades squeeze the breath from my body. Forever, I will surrender to your artisan skin without effort...
Outreaching.
lithely:
The subtle flutter of time’s wings cannot move me. Regardless of how far one person’s boat of a body drifts from mine, fragments of their love will be carried with me across the sea. Some things (their whispers with dawn’s onset, petal-soft kisses behind my kneecaps, the way they’d pour rooibos tea) are wedged so deeply between the velveteen crevices of my heart’s interior that no...
“Some things you’re not letting happen right now because the timing isn’t perfect...”
– Abraham Hicks. (via nirvikalpa)
lithely: Out-breath (the ghosts that followed me... →
lithely:
As you are reading this, I am killing myself. Do not feign trepidation. I am taking a blade to my malignancy. You will not recognise me tomorrow.
There comes a time when every human must throw back their head and permit howls of sheer agony to burn the length of their throat. The spaces…
lithely: Disappearance (December - February). →
lithely:
People tell me I’ve changed, that they can see it in my face. My skin looks sallow in the sunlight.
I used to be the type of person who read poetry before breakfast and decorated herself with flowers. I’d wake on the cusp of daybreak with an aura tinged all the shades of a daisy field. I was…
the cinnamon peeler's wife: clavicola: Skin is so... →
clavicola:
Skin is so damn sexy. The human body is so wonderful. Fragments of limbs are just the most delicate thing. How the light falls into the contours, how everyone moves in a way that almost defines them, how at five in the morning in the hilt before dawn everyone looks like they’re…
lithely:
Self improvement: I am making a conscious effort to stay focused on new growth, and reminding myself that loss is always part of greater gain.
