Henna always takes my breath away. Fearless, frank and fucking exquisite.

Murder Tramp Birthday

Bopia by tudvaseva-sashasource

They say a love like ours is a tragedy in the making, a bud refusing to blossom, the sound of a wave before it hits shore. You’re not a savior but more of a wound that won’t stop festering, a chasm across which I tie bridges of weeds; tansy, peony, sage and yarrow. I place my tongue on the sharp lining of your hip bone and the clawed shadows in your eyes flutter awake. You’ve never been touched by a man, nor have I ever laid my hands on borrowed skin, but boundaries crack as we move in perfect sync, as if rocked by the arms of the sea. I catch your moans as they leave your lips, clenching them in my hand to taste them later. Bury my face in your hair and think of all the people who bowed to you, how carelessly you took the lives of…

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3 comments on “Forget-me-not

  1. Silent Hour says:

    She great, you are right.

  2. S_MW says:

    Absolutely. She’s a wonder – all the things you said.

  3. Ah, stahp it! D,: *cries from joy under my pillow*

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