#love concept

[oflambandmoss]

being weird and full of love can save you

and it might save those around you, too

[inkyfreckles]

There you sleep, again I make notice of the way your heart beats under your neck. I trace it gently, two fingertips so anxious and calm, the oxymoron of love. Butterflies of pure excitement, and paranoia of utter abandonment.

I’ve never had an inkling of doubt, a moment of thought that maybe you would even want to depart one day from my side. Never has there been a second of guessing that you’d attempt to divulge in all of this mortal plane and its offerings of flesh and pleasure without me as your muse, your divinity. When our souls first intertwined as they were always meant to, I painted you. Simple, true, soft love. A soft connection. A genuine intimacy shared between new lovers. I think back to that night often, about how I never stopped wishing to connect each dot upon that freckled, pale skin. 

Will I ever stop? Doubtful, I am a mist of dew across your back, each tantalizing pull of the brush displaying more of the multiverse that scrawls across your features. They’re messy, disjointed, of a multitude in varying hue and darkness and shape and size. I take in every new freckle with my fingers, experiencing each world within, waiting to be seen and witnessed. 

Thousands and thousands of lives across the great plane of multiversal law, we are connected and bound and found over and over and over again. As if the words of our lives together were predetermined and peppered amongst your complexion. Someone with two precise fingertips pinched us in the delicate cuisine that is the cosmos and sprinkled our stars like seasonings across your surface. 

This surface, this surface of soft and smoothness. A surface I devour like the grand design made you to be, a dish of significant flavor and aroma. How, I ask once again, how could I not wish to consume that with which is mortal desire? How am I to deny myself the simple pleasures of your aesthetic–your whole being? 

How? 

I look upon that slumber once more, again and again I say–again and again I write. 

You are art to be engulfed within. You are my art. You are my muse. You are each and every destination, every story, every word and sentence and paragraph. 

May these words enlighten us to the insanity of the universe.

June 5, 2025 - Every Freckle - Pt. 2

[luvconcept]

i tell you a joke. an idiot, simple joke, and you're laughing like there's nothing funnier in the whole world. i can't help but smile, big and bright, right before tackling you down. we roll on the floor, laughing loudly, and there's no other place in the universe i'd rather be than being a complete fool in your arms. there's no other sound i'd rather hear than you stupid laugh. there's no other thing i'd rather see than this beautiful face of yours on the verge of tears from laughing hard for nothing. i love you.

[urluvsickfaeriegf]

when pretty boys lay their heads in your lap and look up at u with their pretty face and their pretty eyes and everything about them is pretty and lovely and adorable

[ancientmyths]

a knight and his lover

La Belle Dame Sans Merci (1901) Frank Dicksee // Godspeed (1900) Edmund Leighton // The Meeting on the Turret Stairs (1864) Frederic William Burton // Lamia (1916) John William Waterhouse

[finnthepup69]

Oh dear beloved… you belong to me and only me. You are my one and only prized possession <3

[amour-suggestions]

concept: we’re in the bathroom together. i’m up on the counter and you stay close to me. the light is on your face, your eyes are closed, and my thumbs are on your cheeks as i teach you my skin care routine. we can’t stop laughing and touching each other.