she wears them
as decoration
these little pretty pleasures
an infinite string of sanitary orbs
allegorical excess wants
and perfect placement

delights disguised as order
to help her cope
devoid of passion
and lacking taste
these beads surround
like fetters of grief

to meager a crumb
to feed her hunger

Rid them…
parted lips
and chin held still
quiver no longer
spit them out
And when your mouth
is finally free of fake
your lips will know the taste
of simple deliciousness

by malai carrara
photography by Tribal Gal

A spring morning and gilded wind
The floor adorned in a motley coverlet
of last autumn and bluebells

birch bark murmurs white
its skin curls and sways
like thin sheets of music

She loves being lost
In thoughts with no fixed address
a sylph ambling in concert with echoes

by malai carrara
photography by Christian Demare

I always feel you

and know the taste of your breath

it melts on my lips

and moves through my blood

written by © malai carrara

photography by Eliara.com

It is on damp nights
When I recall those moments
Of light rain washing over hair
eyes darting over bronzy shimmer
Tasting the salt on air on skin
When your touch quelled the quiver in my throat
It is a tapestry of nothingness and everything
It is the textured sky of gray wishes
And the incense that lingers
It’s on damp nights
When I recall those moments
When we want the same
We are the same

written by malai carrara
photography by nausher banaji