desert pages

Thursday, May 15

The virgin pages of this sketchbook
were deflowered by charcoal and 
graphite in the desert.
Sweltering stars bore into my
retinas, begging me- urging me-
to paint their sparkles onto her cheekbones.
I could smell her lavender moans
mixing with the juniper and sage brush,
the aroma growing stronger with
every stroke of my pen 
against the sighing pages.
Her flesh prickles when I tickle
beneath her earlobe; I tickle
the page, as smooth as skin and just 
as mysterious Just as new.
Just as supple as her.
Page upon page glows like the 
innocence that drips from her lips
as mine move across her thighs in 
even, moonlit paths.
With the silence pulling her out of
my fingertips, the desert grows
ever hotter like our fire kissed 
summer nights in June. 
Silence and pen strokes.
Howling and longing.
She'll breathe on these virgin pages
and I'll live drunk on her caramel curls.

via *

*Inspired by the words of an artist I know


  1. oh my goodness i just want eat your words! YOU inspire the shit out of me. and thank you for your always sweet comments... :)

  2. Wow this is enchanting. You're a wonder.

  3. Beautiful as always, you're making me want to take out my sketchbook and draw xx

  4. love love love... this is electrifying... you just keep getting better girl!

  5. you create such an atmosphere around a story, it's beautiful!

  6. everytime started a new sketch book, there was this idea, this time it is going to be perfect... i never succeeded, but with this poem YOU got "pretty damn close"

    (it is all there, all the atmospheres, images and words one wants to find again, come back to, remember...)

  7. 'I could smell her lavender moans' - this is so seductive and visceral, i love the imagery of the body and the landscape xxx

  8. Those smells in the early summers, I have so many memories from them. It doesn't matter as much now.

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Thank you for your words; they light a fire in my heart. You are lovely.