trying on a metaphor
i don't do bad sauce passes
we're not kids anymore.
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Claire Keane
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@hurricans

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My sweet love.
Lonely are the nights I lay awake in a bed alone whisked away from the love I was suckling from your lips only hours ago.
Whisked so fast from your warm embrace, enveloping my entirety (the same way your hot mouth wraps around my tongue).
What I’d give to have you leaning above me, propped up on your hands with your body stretched across the mattress like a highway overpass.
With your dark eyes glimmering like street lights on wet asphalt, and your hair swinging in your face like telephone wires.
You are an entire city.
The hum of your breath in your chest, like subway trains ripping through the underground. The rumble of your groan echoing from behind your ribs, shaking the grated sidewalks beneath my feet.
Your laughter, electrifying, like digital billboards and neon lights flashing back and forth across the skyline.
Your cry like emergency sirens fleeing through the streets.
And your beautiful mouth hanging open softly, The stark contrast to the sandpaper grin rising from your stubbly chin. Like a flower growing through cracks in the concrete, are your pink mouth and your chipped teeth. (I always loved those flowers the most. Because despite the obstacles, they simply had to grow! They demanded to exist! Like a pure smile on a sad face.)
I want to crawl inside your body and make a home there. Leave my things strewn across the floor, open the windows to let in the breeze, And throw myself down onto the sofa with a content sigh.
I love you tirelessly.

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Aftersun (2022) dir. Charlotte Wells

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Lana Del Rey leaving Chateau Marmont, 3rd April, 2012
尾瀬ヶ原

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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