Last night, I dreamt about your sleepy-soft open mouth kisses along the ridge of my collarbone; and woke up shaking so hard I thought my skin would split at the seams, all the unspoken words and secrets spilling out of my body like black tar and accusations (I never pretended to be an honest person). But it’s 3 AM and I can’t sleep. You always smell like aniseed & bad decisions & it makes me feel so damn alive sometimes. Kiss me harder. Devour my bones. Make me forget the feeling of your long piano fingers tapping Chopin into my skin. It’s not love, but it’s a lot closer to that than hate.
Isn't that wonderful, to feel alive? It's more important to me than anything else.
ReplyDeleteIt's really all that matters in the end.
Deletethose midnight heartbreaks are deadly but oh so valuable
ReplyDeletehttp://radarmagazine.se/linnwiberg
This. All of this. But especially those last lines.
ReplyDeleteYou write like wistfulness, and regret, and the first moments in the morning when you remember the night before. And also snapshots, and also nostalgia, and also pure, undistilled beauty. Poems in the writing, poems in the photos, too.
Your way of writing is so, so beautiful. Write more. Definitely write more. :)
ReplyDeleteNaturally Jes
Love the pics!
ReplyDeletewow nice feel ur photo...
ReplyDelete"You always smell like aniseed & bad decisions." Love it.
ReplyDelete