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the lovecats blogspot
She has black eyes. They are honest, uncovered, glossy and alive. When she blinks, her eyelashes track through the air, arching like the moon. You notice that this is just a sliver of all their full, lush possibility . Her exquisite red heart is thick with visceral humanity. Here she is, all illusory perfection and 1000 assumptions. You’re so fucking emotional all the time. Why do you talk so much about nothing? You’ve got nice eyes though. You are a human too, after all.
Every inch of her ivory skin is masking the ephemeral veins through which the purple blood of her life flows. You want every inch because you're hopeless around her. Greedy. Hungry for the curve in her neck, the plump of her lip, the darkness in her eyes. You want to feel the strands of her hair drift through your fingers. It doesn't feel like a cliche around her. It feels like the most painful bliss you could imagine. When her eyes shut, your stomach is tugged towards her by a thousand knots, each tied to an imperceptible and intangible delicacy, which hangs around her respiring body. She is a beacon of scintillating light in endless black shadow. You are illuminated by her, and it's agony.
Every inch of her ivory skin is masking the ephemeral veins through which the purple blood of her life flows. You want every inch because you're hopeless around her. Greedy. Hungry for the curve in her neck, the plump of her lip, the darkness in her eyes. You want to feel the strands of her hair drift through your fingers. It doesn't feel like a cliche around her. It feels like the most painful bliss you could imagine. When her eyes shut, your stomach is tugged towards her by a thousand knots, each tied to an imperceptible and intangible delicacy, which hangs around her respiring body. She is a beacon of scintillating light in endless black shadow. You are illuminated by her, and it's agony.
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