Siren Lily

poetry. erotica. love.

[nixscriptum]

[nixscriptum]

[januaryhoney]

Late Spring, Mary Oliver

[theotherway]

“Poetry leads to the same place as all forms of eroticism — to the blending and fusion of separate objects. It leads us to eternity, it leads us to death, and through death to continuity. Poetry is eternity; the sun matched with the sea.”

—  Georges Bataille, Erotism: Death and Sensuality (via vaninnavaninni)

[inkpressedpetals]

[mstgsmy66]

[nixscriptum]

[nixscriptum]

[6-4s]

by Cherepahin

[mournfulroses]

Albert Camus, from a letter to María Casares featured in Correspondance, 1944-1959

[89rooms]

Take off your clothes. I will press Your summer honeyed flesh into the hot Soil, into the crushed, acrid herbage Of midsummer. Let your body sink Like honey through the hot Granular fingers of summer.

Kenneth Rexroth - 'When We with Sappho,' Sacramental Acts: Love Poems

[fromhersoul]

[89rooms]

we lay in the dark, breathing together, the deepest intimacy.

Louise Glück - 'Faithful and Virtuous Night'

[thesensualnotebook]

[anaisfraise]

I'll just be here, under the sun, with the breeze brushing my skin where your fingertips were last night. Wet, spread, soft.... would you like to see?

[anaisfraise]

Just us. A moment in time. Nothing before, or after.

[drinksaroundthefire]