𝓙𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓮.
@literatureinfur
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literature + lust | witch-poetess.
𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖘
Joined September 2014
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i was made to read books, live by the ocean, walk beneath the trees, and be madly in love.
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weaver of words, dance within the roses,
light the candles.
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i am deeply protective of myself and those close to my heart.
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I genuinely love being alone, and it’s okay if people don’t understand that. I love my peace and being within my own energy.
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sensuality, creation, literature, poetic beauty, magic, divine trust.
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poetic musings & midnight madness.
ravishing and intoxicating.
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if you are in my life you see the chaos, the sensuality, the compassion, the overthinking, the poetry, the goofing off. you see the intensity and passion; the oceanic force, the lightening, the deep shadows, the warm light. i know i am a lot, i am learning the beauty in that.
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there’s nothing more romantic, intuitive, than being by yourself; reading a book, listening to the silence, writing…
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he kisses me in book aisles, with poetry in my hand. we peruse wines for old beloveds and potential affairs. captivated by our devotion, clothes now trail on the floor.
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these nights are for lovers, for literature, the erotic, and the dark.
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sunday mornings are for sex, coffee, and ordering yourself books.
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dark hair, icy skin, glowing eyes, haunted, & witchcraft in the veins— I, daughter of winter.
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early sunday mornings with the essence of love letters, allure, sex, and coffee.
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i’ve always been in love with my solitude but i am now falling deeply in love with my peace, embodying my inner muse + spirit, saving my energy for me, boundaries, honoring my rest, prioritizing my wellness, finding sensuality in expression, and deepening my connection to myself.
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dark and stormy mornings should be spent in a bookstore while sipping on coffee, and writing in a notebook.
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when a book is hypnotic and everything else ceases to exist.
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there’s just something erotic about him putting my necklace on for me, and gently moving my hair aside.
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let’s ignore the messy hair, the mirror, and the wrinkles in the dress. it was just delivered and i am excited, ok? ok. 🖤
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long walks in the woods, moments of grounding myself and hope.
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theres nothing like the comfort of a cold november night, the smell of rain upon leaves that cover the chilly ground where I sit, and a starless sky.
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so many books, so little time. and the conundrum of what to read next.
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rhythm of rain, stacks of books, a cup of tea, and lost in thought.
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sometimes you have to place a bouquet of flowers on the old version of yourself, whisper some words of grace and gratitude, and know who you are now becoming is who you always were.
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thunderstorms, a cup of coffee, and perusing a stack of books.
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full moon storm mornings of dark cherries, strawberries, and lust.
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severe thunderstorms, a cup of tea, and a long book. heavenly night.
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reading a dark romance during a thunderstorm with a cup of coffee, absolutely in love.
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rainy days, with a book and a cup of tea, are innately romantic.
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baby, i am fucking deranged. now, chase me through the woods as the thunderstorm stirs the skies and kiss me in the rain.
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of cemeteries, rose gardens, and the green depth of the woods.
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