beatrcis-blog

[beatrcis-blog]

Sarojini Naidu, The Poet to Death

[beatrcis-blog]

milk, and the honey of pale stars; it is on night that i nurse, burrowed here as i am within the orchard of your chest. ah, beloved — how very lovely are our under-the-mountain days, spent washing linen for the dead; no sweeter labour is there, no sweeter sleep — Lampades have crowned us in their saffron light. here, all our tears turn to pearls; all our chiffon joyous song, all our silks a mirage woven with the iridescence of Arachne’s womb; all our dreams a river of dandelion wine, hallow’d for the way it burns in our lungs; no sweeter heaven is there, no sweeter taste. it is with both hands that we’ve given our lilies, with both hands that we’ve halved the proffered pomegranate.

  nothing is as gentle as the dark   january 18th, 2019  / /  lianna schreiber (via liatestsblogstuff)

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tag drop !!

i ━━ ❛ : ( she waits. seething. blooming; threads. ) ii ━━  ❛ : ( innocence died screaming ━ i should know; musings. ) iii ━━  ❛ : ( lick your wounds; mirror. ) iv ━━  ❛ : ( the feeling of being fully alive; parallels. ) v ━━  ❛ : ( you'd look good in a grave; ask memes. ) vi ━━  ❛ : ( character study; tasks. )