Poems, Plots, & Random Thoughts

lomigoods:

I’m sixteen again
when you say name
And my skin still crawls
when our knees knock
underneath the table
And the look in my eyes
is the same one you saw
on the first night you held me
only intensified tenfold
These are the things
that make me think forever
or at least for now
or even just for five minutes
to know the way our skin feels
when there’s nothing in between us when the miles have finally erased themselves
and left us to
ourselves
And the past will realize
how foolish he was
And how much more foolish
the future will be
And the present embraces that same foolishness
And when the sun creeps up
anxious to show his face
because he knows our time will be done
We will smile by the moon and remember once what was.

hunnyfucks:

I can anticipate the setting of the sun,

impending doom,

lurking darkness, 

making the sweet moments sweeter,

though they end with a bitter afterthought.

My heart’s been stretched enough already

bound to the north, but now 

the east and south and west.

To miss one is unbearable,

to miss many is impossible,

so much so that heart of your mind will 

decide for you who you get to keep

and the rest will fall away

and a sadness will accumulate as a result of not being 

sad, that you can’t remember

where exactly they said they were going.

And when they find their way back to the place you once both knew

it won’t be there anymore

cause home’s not where you grew tall.

(Source: lomigoods, via lomigoods)

Till death to us part

or till your heart’s not in it?

And once your heart has turned to stone

you’re halfway dead already.

So what’s the point

of holding on

anyways?

I want to know your body
Like I was made for it
I want to know the birth mark on your ass shaped like Texas
I want to make a constellation from the freckles on your back
And trace them with my lips
Till we come back down to earth
I want to know the way your hair falls as the morning shows it’s face
And the way your eyes squint as you’d wish it’d go away
I want to plant tiny bruises in the many shapes of love
On the sweet spot of your neck while we’re making love
I want to read your hands like a precious diary
And after I’m done I want to lay them on top of me
So you can know me like I now know you
As we lay alone in silence
In this bed made for two

As hard as I tried to put away the thought of all before
Forever was a secret treasure buried deep in a drawer
Tried to tell myself it was just a four letter word in the aftermath
Just to help myself get along for all after that
It worked a few times and thought I was free of it
But there’s nothing harder to rid yourself of than a feeling
Once you held me close like I was made out of glue
Like I was made to sew you
Back together
You never spoke a word but your silence was a dictionary
Creating what I thought and hoped you’d be saying
But I can’t put the words in your mouth any longer
And you don’t have any of your own
It’s all wrong
And I god damn swore that I’d never write for you again
So this isn’t for you it’s mostly for-
Me

separation anxiety

I don’t understand it

just the fragility of it

and how it’s true that

“nothing gold can stay”

it feels

so good

too good

it’s destruction

inevitable

impending doom

it’s tip-towing

around the truth

of what we both know

will one day come

lomigoods:

I fell in love with a boy in a dream

gestures soft,

and words small

but his heart is big enough to contain

all the love I need.

He looks just like you.

I used to want to save the world

but it was too big a task for

me

a girl with limp wrists 

and ashy knees

so then I thought I’d save the country

but it didn’t hear my voice

muffled by dead-eyed politicians

so loud, so stern, so wrong

and so stiff

then I thought I’d save my city

but still I found myself lost

in a sea of differing opinions

then among the crowd I found my fair match,

you-

you

with your dark eyes and troubled mind

trembling hands and sideways smile

but you 

weren’t looking to be saved.

But if tears bought plane tickets

I’d be writing the symphony of your smile

instead of the eulogy of love.

I want to find you

Like quarters in my sofa

Small dusty treasures

-

I want to fit you

Like a puzzle

Make sense of all your pieces

-

I want to know you

Like my favorite novel

Touch me again

Sad songs sing truths

the happiest tune can’t hold.

This, my song for autumn,

the fall-

from the heights of summer.

Remembering the nights we felt alive,

because we were.

With eyes wide,

capturing every goodness

like tiny fireflies in a jar.

A jar which is no longer illuminated. 

I’ve already forgotten the songs we sang,

just weeks ago.

Because those were the happy ones,

that told the greatest lies.

Sad songs scream truths 

and I wish they’d just be quiet.

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.