Full woman, fleshly apple, hot moon,
thick smell of seaweed, crushed mud and light,
what obscure brilliance opens between your columns?
What ancient night does a man touch with his senses?

Loving is a journey with water and with stars,
with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour:
loving is a clash of lightening bolts
and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.

Kiss by kiss I move across your small infinity,
your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages,
and the genital fire transformed into delight

runs through the narrow pathways of the blood
until it plunges down, like a dark carnation,
until it is and is no more than a flash in the night.

Pablo Neruda, from “Love Sonnet XII,” in One Hundred Love Sonnets (1960)

(via hjmf)

would love to be absorbed into your cunt <3

hjmf:

absorbed wtf. what are you a multivitamin? vagina-soluable? 

"elephant mourning and memory" 

"you remind me of me when I was younger."