🐆.LALA.✨

i play your body like a lyre

and savour the sweet songs you sing;

my fingers know every string by heart,

i’m fluent in your vocal poetry.

i would start and end wars

for your ambrosia lips

and they way they trail down my figure—

your mouth more devastating

than any of Eros’ arrows.

we make such beautiful music together.

modern greek lovers; Sappho must be proud.

caress me like you’re

making love to Aphrodite;

i’m all soft curves and pink skin,

dripping sea foam, ready for your touch.

gently work the oyster shell open,

and polish the pearl ‘til it shines.

trace my flower petals with your tongue,

drink the nectar forged only for you.

bite me like you’re

fucking Dionysus;

claw me open, hear me cry out—

you know i like it rough.

curl around me like ivy,

scratch down my back and feel it arch.

sip on my wine, suck on the cork;

watch how i put on a show for you.

embrace me like you’re

bedding Hera;

spread yourself wide, peacock-style,

give yourself up to me in offering.

brush heavenly kisses down my neck,

you know i’m your queen—

your hands gripped in my hair, my crown,

your face of carved marble, my throne.

make my mortal body tremble

on our altar of honey-sweet elixir

and damp, discarded bedsheets;

Sources: SigningSavvy, Lifeprint, ASLDeafined

[Image ID:

Human in American Sign Language. H handshape taps at the shoulder then the waist. Movement is illustrated by arms that are translucent green and blue in different stages of the sign. Background is transparent.

They were beautiful

Hands on hands on touches

Whispered names under honey light

Juice dripped and smoke poured

Tounge shaping thoughts like clay

They were beautiful

But don't tell them your name

Not yet

Learn to scream before whisper

There's more to come

Let the hands bring touches

But know they bring claws

Eat the fruit smoke the herb

They bring wisdom

But learn from the writing on the trees

Make use of those pots made before

But build new from those that crack and cut

Yes they were beautiful yes they are rotting

㋡🥀

Through Your Essence

Suspended above your essence

Naked, exposed, peering anxiously

Down upon the unknown, the intimate,

Caution be damned... I jump...

Tumbling recklessly askew,

Heedless of the potential pain

Exploring the new territory of you...

Buffeted by character flaws,

Blinded by the colors of your soul,

Tossed by the breath of your passion,

Stripped raw by your raking gaze,

Molded by the heat of your hands,

Melting around the curves of your flesh,

Immersing my core in your powerful being.

Molting my prepared persona.

Exposing my truest nature;

Me unfiltered for you to absorb.

Battered and bashed,

Honesty unleashed,

Coddled and caressed,

Inhibitions released...

Caught finally by the depth

Of your beautiful mind,

Nourished by your heart's blood bathing

My inner child with acceptance,

Pulsing in time with our

Crushing desire to be loved eternally

With unconditional zeal,

Cradled in the tranquil embrace

Of your compassionate regard.

Some of Léon Bakst’s set designs for the Ballets Russes:

Boris Godunov (1908) 

Scheherezade (1910)

L’après-midi d’une faune (1912)