America's Suitehearts

by Rachel Lynch in ,


suiteheart1suiteheart11suiteheart9suiteheart7suiteheart6suiteheart5suiteheart2suiteheart3suiteheart8suiteheart14suiteheart4Let's hear it for America's Suitehearts. All felt, lace and wet locks. Purple sky dripping down, acidic delight. The moon turns its haze to fill the sky behind the mountains. We are infinite, laying counting stars on the sea. Higher and faster than the light that hits earth. We are drawing from the most innocent of times. Everything is new. Everything is golden.

I look at you with unbounded possibility. So young, so free. My heart is filled in ways that the wild never could quench. I savor a different taste. And it crosses my mind that getting close to you is perhaps more unnerving then meeting someone new everyday. Exposed like the deepest red in the blood of a fresh wound.

A smell of the air, a dip in the water. Another soul to drip open. A physical kiss is nothing without it. You close your eyes to see what it's done to your insides.

necklace by Sequin-NYC

bodysuit by Nasty Gal

salome boots by Jeffrey Campbell

photos by David Aronson