This Virgin War

Because I need you smiling
& crying & dying on the inside & vying
& craving & paining & screaming
me, beaming & gleaming
because baby, I’m numb & sedated
if I’m not dreaming.

Because baby, you told me you loved me
& baby, I believed every word
but why wouldn’t I; it wasn’t absurd.
Every human ear had heard.

Because ears have legs
& scatter like plagues.

& honey I love being a rumor
inhaling humor, little girl late bloomer -
if it means I get to see you sooner
on my knees, me a swooner.

Because baby, you’re God in my eyes
& I don’t mind your hands on my thighs
& when you’re in me, a piece of me dies.
I don’t expect redemption,
honey, when I meet my demise.

Because baby, you’re a false God
& even I can pervade that facade
I can see that you love me
& baby, that’s where you’re flawed.

Everybody’s allowed a sin
& baby, you too can be forgiven.

Because you’re much too rich to ignore
& baby, you have me begging on the floor -
down & out & dirty like yesterday’s whore
like the featured player in this virgin war.

& baby, I can’t help but come back for more.
& I know I’m not the only one keeping score.

& I know I’m not the only one -
wondering just what this is for.

© R. Tillett

28 Sep 14   –   0 notes

“The area was encompassed in a bubble of warm, fragrant steam from the funnel cake deep fryers. It smelled like sweet vanilla cake batter you licked off a spoon.” 

― Sarah Addison Allen

26 Sep 14   –   1 note

I love shooting two people in love. I love catching all of the little moments in between the planned and posed and easy smiling shots; the more intimate, real and honest seconds that seemingly freeze and last for little eternities, and when you think and hope and pray that perhaps they forgot there’s a camera there with a person behind it capturing these small instances before they slip away. To be both very there and very present and yet try as hard as possible to be invisible. It’s a very exacting but gratifying exercise especially when one half of the pair swears adamantly that no conspicuous kissing will be taking place in front of your lens.

Challenge accepted.

26 Sep 14   –   2 notes

I grew up on gorditas and rolled tacos and red and green chile and Vegemite toast and Turkish Delights and cheeseburgers and tuna sandwiches and meat loaf. I celebrated Christmas and Thanksgiving and Cinco de Mayo and Dia de los Muertos and Boxing Day. I came to fruition in the midst of three different cultures and I carry all three with me in everything I do. They are all an equal part of who I am. This is something I’ve grown comfortable in knowing as I’ve aged.

23 Sep 14   –   6 notes

I’ll speak candidly: I’ve been wanting to shoot this woman naked for years. To quickly capture just a glimpse and solidify her beautiful art-plastered body in photographs for infinitude. Shanna’s my tattoo artist and one hell of a chick and I’ve photographed her before but never was there such tenaciousness in the air. Even days prior to the shoot she said she’d be bringing pretty underwear for “safe” shots. But she didn’t. On one uncharacteristically cold Colorado September morning a few weeks ago she showed up entirely vulnerable, wholeheartedly exposed and ready to be taken. And fuck, do I admire that. There’s a certain amount of bravado, raw guts and fearlessness that my nude models tend to have and while it may rarely be evident, I am in awe of them as I’m shooting them. They are bolder and braver than I’ll ever be. 

You’re amazing. You’re completely self-aware and yet emancipated from what ties you to this earth. You’re raw and dripping with fervor for life. You’re part ocean, part land and all sky. You’re beautiful. You’re burning in your eagerness for sensation. You’re brighter than the sun. 

23 Sep 14   –   131 notes

The Normal Wood Creates the Sea (2014)
Model: Shanna Keyes
© Rebecca Tillett

18 Sep 14   –   204 notes

Où habitez-vous?
Wo wohnen Sie?
¿Dónde vive?
Dove vivi?
I live in your heart.
Et a chaque oiseaux son nid est beau.
Underneath your bones 
and between the muscle.
Did you forget?
You live in every pore of my skin
Carne. La viande. Le carni. Fleisch.
Every molecule and idea of you
before you prevailed 
as a sovereign being.
I can’t keep reminding you
to look for me there.
And I can’t keep gasping for air.
Yo voy a dejar ir.



16 Sep 14   –   1 note

“I am not pretty. I am not beautiful. I am as radiant as the sun.” 
― Suzanne Collins

Timber (2014)
© Rebecca Tillett

21 Jul 14   –   2 notes