"We almost suspect that he exposed himself to erotic temptations throughout his life because only despairing rejection of them could inspire his true passions."

Patrick Suskind, On Love & Death

Permit me to share some womanly wisdom with you on this very special day.

"I loved you madly; in the distasteful work of the day, in the wakeful misery of the night, girded by sordid realities, or wandering through Paradises and Hells of visions into which I rushed, carrying your image in my arms, I loved you madly."

Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

"But I don’t want to live that way, reading into every word you say. You said that you could let it go and I wouldn’t catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know."

Goyte, “Somebody That I Used to Know”

artezza: Santiago Carbonell

artezza: Santiago Carbonell

Black Sea by Mark Strand

One clear night while the others slept, I climbed
the stairs to the roof of the house and under a sky
strewn with stars I gazed at the sea, at the spread of it,
the rolling crests of it raked by the wind, becoming
like bits of lace tossed in the air. I stood in the long
whispering night, waiting for something, a sign, the approach
of a distant light, and I imagined you coming closer,
the dark waves of your hair mingling with the sea,
and the dark became desire, and desire the arriving light.
The nearness, the momentary warmth of you as I stood
on that lonely height watching the slow swells of the sea
break on the shore and turn briefly into glass and disappear…
Why did I believe you would come out of nowhere? Why with all
that the world offers would you come only because I was here?

Summer Love by Marilyn Chin

The black smoke rising means that I am cooking
dried lotus, bay oysters scrambled with eggs.
If this doesn’t please you, too bad, it’s all I have.
I don’t mind your staying for breakfast – but please – do not linger,
nothing worse in the morning than last night’s love.

Your belly is flat and your skin – milk in the moonlight.
I notice your glimmer among a thousand tired eyes.
When we dance closely, fog thickens, all distinctions falter.
I let you touch me where I am most vulnerable,
heart of the vulva, vulva of the heart.

Perhaps, I fear, there will not be another like you.
Or you might walk away in the same face of the others –
– blue with scorn and a troubled life.
But, for now, let the summers be savored and the centuries be forgiven.
Two lovers in a field of floss and iris –
where nothing else matters but the dew and the light.

"Nothing compares, no worries or cares. Regrets and mistakes, they are memories made. Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?"

Adele