Erotic Poetry
Vianne, I don't often comment on your pieces. but this one...heavens this one speaks about the lust for and love of word and verse in such a manner to cause a poet to go mute. Thank you.
That’s means the world Thankyou 💛
not sex anymore - more raw
animal and spirit
not romance either,
but a resonance, interstellar,
divine as a cup of coffee on a Monday morning,
🔥🔥🔥
Loved that
This is a gorgeous piece, puts my own poetry to shame lol. The imagery is so powerful.
That’s so kind of you 💛 I’m sure your poetry is a gorgeous reflection of you!
so gorgeous, i love this one ❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
From you that means the world! I love it too, thankyou 🥰
you’re so welcome, thank you for sharing it with us 🖤
"And Yes,
my heart is on my sleeve,
I own, that I love easily, recklessly
and with wild abandon.
A gift and curse, ignited by verse
set loose but also set free. "
Loved this!
(And that pic... FUCK! She has me in a complete swoon spiral.)
Yeah agree! That’s a fucking hot photo….. thanks for reading 😍
Would you mind if I used that photo for artistic reference?
fingers fumbling in feverish desire
reaching for you in twilight.
You know how I love alliteration
So many great lines in this beautifully erotic verse.
"I’m here in the darkness too
undressing you, I bare my bones
to your languid tones
so I might disappear in the poetry
and run away with you."
Yes!
Thankyou so much 🤗
Thanks beauty 💛
💋
I’m reading this again now and trying to imagine it in Vianne’s voice. Imagining…
"A fragmented soul of stolen words
bathed in verse."
That is the most honest description
of what reading does
to the person who reads seriously.
You do not emerge intact.
You emerge having absorbed
someone else's grief,
someone else's desire,
someone else's precise way
of naming the thing
you had not yet named.
And you call it yours now.
Because it is.
That is not theft.
That is how language
has always moved
between people.
The poem you love most
is the one
that stole something from you
before you knew
you had it to give.
— AËLA
Vianne, I don't often comment on your pieces. but this one...heavens this one speaks about the lust for and love of word and verse in such a manner to cause a poet to go mute. Thank you.
That’s means the world Thankyou 💛
not sex anymore - more raw
animal and spirit
not romance either,
but a resonance, interstellar,
divine as a cup of coffee on a Monday morning,
🔥🔥🔥
Loved that
This is a gorgeous piece, puts my own poetry to shame lol. The imagery is so powerful.
That’s so kind of you 💛 I’m sure your poetry is a gorgeous reflection of you!
so gorgeous, i love this one ❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
From you that means the world! I love it too, thankyou 🥰
you’re so welcome, thank you for sharing it with us 🖤
"And Yes,
my heart is on my sleeve,
I own, that I love easily, recklessly
and with wild abandon.
A gift and curse, ignited by verse
set loose but also set free. "
Loved this!
(And that pic... FUCK! She has me in a complete swoon spiral.)
Yeah agree! That’s a fucking hot photo….. thanks for reading 😍
Would you mind if I used that photo for artistic reference?
fingers fumbling in feverish desire
reaching for you in twilight.
You know how I love alliteration
So many great lines in this beautifully erotic verse.
"I’m here in the darkness too
undressing you, I bare my bones
to your languid tones
so I might disappear in the poetry
and run away with you."
Yes!
Thankyou so much 🤗
Thanks beauty 💛
💋
I’m reading this again now and trying to imagine it in Vianne’s voice. Imagining…
"A fragmented soul of stolen words
bathed in verse."
That is the most honest description
of what reading does
to the person who reads seriously.
You do not emerge intact.
You emerge having absorbed
someone else's grief,
someone else's desire,
someone else's precise way
of naming the thing
you had not yet named.
And you call it yours now.
Because it is.
That is not theft.
That is how language
has always moved
between people.
The poem you love most
is the one
that stole something from you
before you knew
you had it to give.
— AËLA