Equivalence

sleep-sweet:

          Like a lover’s lowest stumble
            Into the belly of the vulture
          Or the way he gently whispers
                                       Your name.

       When he traces your small collarbone
 With soft lips made of sun-touched stone
              Or the pad of his finger against your
                                              Burning tongue
                         Nothing could ever feel the same.
30/5/12, 37 notes
16/4/12, 238 notes
15/4/12, 3087 notes
14/4/12, 134 notes
13/4/12, 500 notes
12/4/12, 1771 notes
11/4/12, 14963 notes
10/4/12, 2177 notes
9/4/12, 16054 notes
8/4/12, 27 notes
7/4/12, 263 notes
4/4/12, 328 notes
31/3/12, 2847 notes
28/3/12, 188 notes
20/3/12, 158 notes

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