“There are things better left untouched by words …”
Anna Kamieńska, from “A Nest of Quiet: A Notebook”, translated by C. Cavanagh

freewrite [similes and metaphors]

somethingiwrotejustnow:

metaphorically speaking,

you were hard wood floors

on my bare feet in the morning.

if you prefer a simile, you were

completely debilitating like

my sensory receptors wouldn’t

respond to anything

but your touch.

(via outside-inside)

My Mouth Hovers Across Your Breasts

My mouth hovers across your breasts
in the short grey winter afternoon
in this bed we are delicate
and touch so hot with joy we amaze ourselves
tough and delicate we play rings
around each other our daytime candle burns
with its peculiar light and if the snow
begins to fall outside filling the branches
and if the night falls without announcement
there are the pleasures of winter
sudden, wild and delicate your fingers
exact my tongue exact at the same moment
stopping to laugh at a joke
my love hot on your scent on the cusp of winter

Adrienne Rich

December 21st, 2002

It’s said it takes seven years
to grow completely new skin cells.

To think, this year I will grow
into a body you never will  
have touched.

Brett Elizabeth Jenkins (via)