(no subject)
Jun. 11th, 2005 11:10 amLoafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat,
Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning,
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me.
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone,and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart...
--Walt Whitman
ETA: <3
no subject
Date: 2005-06-11 09:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-11 09:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-11 10:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-11 12:04 pm (UTC)Along with an undeniable urge to cry my eyes out. I'm so angry, and so sorry. But thanks anyway.