Tuesday, May 22
(Source: persimmonblossom, via be-the-one-to-guide-me)
Monday, May 21
(Source: rolle-on, via sofeeuhsofia)
Friday, May 18
(via yepitsdelaney)
Monday, May 14
Many moons have shown their faces
since I have last seen yours
but I still know the shape of your body:
the crook of your arm around my waist,
the flare of your nostrils,
and the sunken treasure of your eyes.
It is quite likely I could
study the surface of the night’s watchful eye
and never know it the way I know you
and your most crooked smile.
Friday, May 11
I thought I understood it
That I could grasp it
But I didn’t
Not really
I knew the smudgeness of it
The pink-slippered-all-containered-semi-precious eagerness of it
I didn’t realize it would sometimes be more than whole
The wholeness was a rather luxurious idea
Because its the halves that halve you in half
Didn’t know
Don’t know about the in between bits
The gore-y bits of you
And gore-y bits of me
(Source: lobotomysquirmy, via divorceddiction)
Thursday, May 10
“Their Girl”
I tried to write a poem called
“My Boys”
Though they were never mine.
They were their mama’s boys,
and their father’s sons.
I’m still trying to write it now
“My Boys”
they’re the lost boys,
that found themselves,
discovered me.
So I guess
this is really called
“Their Girl”.
Wednesday, May 9
Awkward.
“It is just a poem”, he said.
“It is not that even good “, he said.
“It doesn’t capture who you are”, he said.
“I mean… whatever”, he said.
“Shut up and kiss me”, she said.
Wednesday, May 2
“But she is not the woman I used to know, the woman who traveled a countryside counting prairie dog holes, who read aloud the classifieds of lonely cowboys seeking women and told me in the darkest crease of the night, that she would love me until the moon lost its footing in the sky. To be fair, I am not the same man, The one who listened. The one who believed her.”My Sister’s Keeper
everything is illuminated - Jonathan Safran Foer
(via yourwordsarepoisonous)
Monday, April 30
(via exploratio)
Saturday, April 28
“It was a joy! Words weren’t dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope, no matter what happened to you.”Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye (via sheistoofondofbooks)
(via positivenergy)
Thursday, April 26
(Source: wordsto-remember)
