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The poem "Lethe" from Baudelaire's Fleurs de Mal is full of things that, if sexted, would drive a person wild. It's also about a really specific, dark kind of love, but isn't that the best kind? No, probably not. Even so, here are some good Baudelaire sexts, "I would for a long time plunge my trembling fingers into the heavy tresses of your hair; and in your garments that exhale your perfume I would bury my aching head," and "I shall suck, to drown my rancour, Nepenthe, hemlock, an opiate, at the charming tips of this pointed breast that has never imprisoned a heart." Finally, who wouldn't want to get this sext from someone? "Nothing equals your bed's abyss." I love that.