For the Courtesan Ch’ing Lin

On your slender body
Your jade and coral girdle ornaments chime
Like those of a celestial companion
Come from the Green Jade City of Heaven.
One smile from you when we meet,
And I become speechless and forget every word.
For too long you have gathered flowers,
And leaned against the bamboos,
Your green sleeves growing cold,
In your deserted valley:
I can visualize you all alone,
A girl harboring her cryptic thoughts.

You glow like a perfumed lamp
In the gathering shadows.
We play wine games
And recite each other’s poems.
Then you sing `Remembering South of the River’
With its heart breaking verses. Then
We paint each other’s beautiful eyebrows.
I want to possess you completely -
Your jade body
And your promised heart.
It is Spring.
Vast mists cover the Five Lakes.
My dear, let me buy a red painted boat
And carry you away.

By Wu Tsao
19th Century

-Translated by Kenneth Rexroth and Ling Chung

She is golden.
The way soft gold beauty called her hair flows as she moves,
How her tanned legs walk oh so delicitely through the halls,
Her gold eyes that turn transparent in the sun,
A voice I could listen to,
and wonder if i died and that was the last thing i heard,
would i actually be sad?
I look at her and suddenly im no longer cold,
No, she fills me up with warm love,
She is golden.
  • I was stirred from my sleep by a touch. A touch so intimate that I heard myself softly moan as I lowered my arching back down onto the warm sheets. A gently caress made its way down my belly and even in my barely wakened state, I parted my legs in acceptance. The fact that I had went to bed alone didn't seem to matter at the moment. I wanted to remain in this state of early bliss and I wouldn't trouble myself with doubt until later. I heard myself hiss as a warm hand slid down my thigh and teased between my legs. I gripped my hands over my head, afraid of what I would, or wouldn't find if I tried to grasp the hand that was pleasuring me.

You see her for the first time and she’ll walk right past you like you are a crack in the wall and she is a skyscraper with her head so high in the air and when you can’t sleep you’ll think about the way her eyes strayed into yours for a moment too long before breaking away and disappearing into the crowd of people.

She’ll look both ways before telling you she loves you under her breath and when she hugs you her eyes scan the empty room as if the walls had eyes and ears and mouths that could give you away.

When she’s curled up on your lap shaking with mismatched breaths you’ll wonder how someone who looked like she carried mountains on her shoulders could crumble so easily in your arms like the tornado in her mind finally hit her and knocked her off her feet.

In half-light she’ll run her fingers over your arms like she is reading words carved into your skin, binding them together into the perfect metaphor and you’ll hear it playback in your head at 4am when your head runs wild with thoughts of her.

You’ll find a safe haven on rooftops and abandoned rooms where she’ll set fire to your insides with hushed breaths between kisses planted perfectly on your lips and make you wonder how dangerous it is to play with wild flames while your body is made of paper.

You’ll stare God right in the eye and tell him that if loving her was a sin then you want no place in heaven with him because the way her lips fit perfectly on your neck is a type of paradise you’ll never forget.

The six stages of falling in love with her. // by rb (via rbcages)
I want to worship your skin, I want to pray between your knees. I’ll damn myself to have your hands all over me. God has no place here. Adam has no place here. Only you. Only us. My Goddess. My Eve. I want your name in my mouth like a hymn. I’ll cover myself in you like its holy water. Us in the thrones, us in the skies, us in the garden with no sin. They’ll say our union is unholy, ungodly: they’ll call it blasphemous, I’ll call it sacred.
Our love is not impure, Scarlette La Vaillante (via scarlettethewriter)