a blog of lovely vintagey kinky things
the last breath
you haunt me like a ghost
slipping in and out of my consciousness
pervading every memory, every moment.
the bitter death i have endured,
the brokenness,
the lack of being,
all remind me of what you were to me
once,
when you were whole,
when there was beauty,
when i was alive.
but now i stalk in the night,
consumed by blackness,
a crushing weight,
a desperation,
as my universe collapses.
The Ghost
Like an angel wild of eye,
I shall return to where you lie
And towards you, noiseless, glide
With the shades of eventide.
I shall give you, dusky one,
Kisses icy as the moon,
Embraces that a snake would give
As it crawled around a grave.
When the somber morning comes
You will find your lover gone,
My place cold till the night draws near.
As others reign through tenderness,
Over your life and youthfulness,
I want, myself, to reign through fear.
-Baudelaire
Fetish Heels c. 1950’s
(via takingthepowerback)
(via funeral-belle)
(via funeral-belle)
Van Raalte stockings, 1951
(via theliminalpassage)
(via takingthepowerback)
(via takingthepowerback)
(via collarandcuffs)
