entry 9

your lips on my skin burn like the sun's sweet kisses

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dear sweet readers,

february is not over yet. and do not think you were going to get away without me relishing in the love it has to offer at least once more! as we tear down the streamers, pop the balloons, forget to replace the wilting carnations, lest we forget; love is timeless and fashionable on all.

love is the red dress you save for that special occasion, but find yourself in dancing in the kitchen after too many glasses of wine. love is the pair of gloves knit with the intention of keeping your hands warm in times where theirs are absent. love is the radiance illuminating from your summery skin, no matter the time of year.

enjoy another sip of love’s delicacy here with me now, and for always.

love, laney

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sweet nothings whisper to me

from your guitar mouth.

tender affections sprout from 

soft, sophisticated fingers.

under the warmth of winter sun,

february flowers bud because

it is you who gives them life.

*

the warmth of winter sun;

which kisses the thirsty skin

longing to be quenched

by your supple love, 

which warms the skin

that wishes to never be

parted from yours.

*

and if the cruel night permits,

it will wait a little longer

to dress me in its darkness.

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(photo: on a washed emerald green backdrop, two white doves admirably work together to tie a baby blue ribbon around a string of garland. the dove on the left is belly facing our perspective, the unders of its wings visible as it maintains its hovering place with the ribbon gently tucked in its beak, as if tying the knot. the dove on the right is back facing, opposite the dove on the left, the tops of its wings visible as its face looks up to the face of the left dove in which it is aligned with. pink and orange roses, green leaves make up the garland that sits on top of a ruby red heart. unable to source)