Phoenix feathers and stardust

The inner thoughts of a closet firecracker.

Poetry I have written is unapologetically NSFW. And protected by copyright.

Images have been found on the Internet and are not mine, contact me if they are yours and you wish them removed.

Contact me at phenix [dot] noire1 at gmail [dot] com

kiss me a little:
the air
darkens and is alive –
o live with me in the fewness of
these colours;

—e. e. cummings, from “XLVIII” (via litverve)

myquietobservations:

The story of my life…

… but while there was loving to be had she loved a lifetime’s worth and that made all the difference.

myquietobservations:

The story of my life…

… but while there was loving to be had she loved a lifetime’s worth and that made all the difference.

Mélange

Tonight I am an amalgam of breathy sighs into a lover’s neck. I am the elegant curve of an arched back and proffered breasts. I am the startling sound of a flock of birds exploding from a bush. The taste of salt on a lover’s skin. I am the smell of ozone and the rumble of thunder as the horizon darkens. The feeling of thighs tightening around your hips. The rush of wind before a summer storm. The growl of a V8. The feeling of sliding into a cool pond of water when the summer heat stains the air gold. I am the feeling of teeth gently worrying at the skin of your neck. The burn of tequila fumes climbing up your throat. I am the feeling of fingertips sliding up bare thighs and the heated, thundering pulse that’s keeping count of how long it takes you to get there.

Let it come, the night—
I can take it all, right now,
and burn it to the ground
and you beneath it.
I will love you into ash
and make the sunrise red.

—Peregrine (via youreyesblazeout)