Tuesday, April 17, 2012

a creature of warmth.


i’m a warm-blooded creature.

my instinct is to gravitate towards warmth. mainly because it provides a temporal comfort.

poor circulation doesn’t even begin to describe the condition of my feet or finger tips. ask anyone familiar with my appendages.

i’m a slave to wool socks and slippers, even in the dry september heat.

i can’t resist warmth.

one of the many reasons i’ve migrated back down to the lands of california.

snow and endless winters can be charming, obviously. fireplaces, hot chocolate, a snuggie. oh yes, it all rings so infomercial-sweetly.

but not for me.

walking inside and feeling melted snow seep deep into my boots, scraping ice off of my windshield at hellish hours of the morning, and coming out of work to three feet of snow piled on top of my car are all things that kind of make me want to cry.

chapped lips. frozen toes. frozen-a winds. shut-the-f-up.

not my thing.

warmth.

that's my thing.

i’m a girl that lusts after the vicious summer heat. and will aggressively wiggle her toes and shake her legs to warm up under when first slipping into bed at night.

so please, don’t be surprised baby.




when we pull down the covers. just you and i.

in a bed much like this.

placed in a room carefully and obsessively crafted just to our liking. with one-too-many down filled pillows (i'm a pillow snob) and the perfect, slightly-sensual color palette.

the day will have ended like most. we'll laugh at the ridiculous things we say and do. i'll tell you stories about the cray-crayyyy woman i work with. you'll joke about my inability to take care of my car. which i deserve--after forgetting to get its oil changed. again.

kindly saying you'll do it for me tomorrow.

i'll stand on my tip-toes. and thank you with a sincere kiss on your perfect jaw bone.

warmth.

living for those moments of pure, crazy-ass love. the kind that most find overwhelming (in the beautiful sense of the word). the kind that brings so much freakin' warmth to your fingertips through a simple touch.

pumping so much blood through your once chilly, lost-and-forgotten heart.



we'll turn down those sheets.

and darling, like i said-- don’t be surprised.

when i curl up next to you and let my nose bury into the side of your chest.

and please don’t be thrown off when you hear a muffled whisper, as i pull that duvet up higher around my lips--telling you to come closer to me.

please baby.




you make think it's just for that ridiculous amount of body heat you put off.
and in a small way--maybe it is (like i said--my circulation is extremely poor)...



but what you may not realize...

is that mostly--mostly and lastly--it's for that indescribable, addictive warmth.

found in your touch, spread through the fingertips. it's that heart-pumping-dream-shaking-world-rocking warmth that only moments like these can offer a person.





and what can i say?


i'm a creature of warmth baby.




Monday, April 2, 2012

literature.

"...why don't you tell me that 'if the girl had been worth having,
she'd have waited for you?'
no, sir.
the girl really worth having won't wait for anybody."

f. scott fitzgerald


p.s. i'm lusting over this artwork right now.
not even sure where it's from.
grabbed it off of tumblr and pinned that son of a b.