Unbuttoned in Paris

<p><em style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>There's a city that only opens at night-one you enter with a half-buttoned shirt a mouthful of longing and nowhere to be but lost.</em></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>In </span><em style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Unbuttoned in Paris</em><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)> Lucy Sabine undresses the boundary between poetry and confession. Each page is a velvet dare-letters never sent bodies remembered by scent obsessions that linger like perfume on an empty pillow. These are poems for the restless: lovers who haunt hotel rooms ghosts of desire that won't fade and the ones who know love is a crime and lust is its alibi.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Set in the rain-slicked corners of Montmartre and the ruins of memory this intimate collection seduces haunts and ignites. Sabine's voice is sensual cinematic and unashamed-a whisper with teeth.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Read with the lights off. Whisper with your whole body. This is not a book.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>It's an invitation.</span></p><p></p>