May 2013
I wouldn’t be surprised, if I stabbed you in the chest, and gasoline sprayed out, and set me on fire. I liked you a little before you tied that noose around my neck, and then a lot more, when you pulled it tighter. It’s so cute when you try to scare me. How can I feel threatened by you? Our fingers are on the same trigger.
“I will always be the virgin prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced...”
– Anais Nin
I wonder what you use for bookmarks, or the shapes that you imagine on the plaster of your ceiling. I wonder how many woods you have wandered through and how many girls have ended up loving you.
If you thought aloud in front of me, I’d fall in love with you within the hour. Even now, when you run your fingers up my spine, I have to consciously tell my heart not to get too far ahead of itself. Maybe I’m too incredibly romantic. Maybe I’m desperate to write meaningful poetry again. Maybe I was stupid to look at anyone and think “maybe this time, it’ll unfold...
I had great love once, and then I had it again. Now I have the broken pieces of a tennis racket, a tarnished chain around my wrist, some dried out roses, an empty Tiffany’s box, an old sweatshirt to wear to bed, a bent up ring in my jewelry box, and a romantic ideal I can’t seem to throw away.
“We are the scientists, trying to make sense of the stars inside us.”
– Christopher Poindexter
What if the stars burned for us, with a passion that we could not return? What if man had no desire to rocket up into space and explore thousands of light-years of galaxy? What if I had no desire to explore the galaxies in you?
I don’t know if love can always be balanced, and I don’t know why the sun gives its energy so that I can live and grow. I look into your eyes, and I want the...
The radiation of, say, solar flares, is nothing compared to the pressure in my chest whenever you’re near. My problem is, I don’t have the words to explain the supernova reaction when you say my name.
“Do they sense it, these dead writers, when their books are read? Does a pinprick...”
– Diane Setterfield
I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, because I don’t think I’m entirely what you see in me. I’m a lot like broken poetry, I guess; I’m not always so easy to read. I’ll spew out a pretty line here or there, then trail off in the middle of a thought. I’ll contradict myself in the next stanza. I reserve the right to change my mind. I...
“I’m not drunk yet, but we haven’t
spoken in months now
and I wanted to tell...”
– If I Left You a Voicemail, This Would Be It (Shinji Moon)
I’ve got my ticket for the long way round, the one with the prettiest of views. It’s got mountains, it’s got rivers, it’s got sites to give you shivers, but it sure would be prettier with you.
“Although most boys figure out how to bring themselves to orgasm by age thirteen,...”
– (via compulsives)
I’ve always hated my thighs, but I quickly learned to love every inch of myself as soon as my skin started fizzling under your lips. The first time you sighed my name into my mouth, I realized just how much it suited me. If I could take each and every one of your words onto my tongue, I know I would. Your breath already tastes like poetry, and your kisses stain like ink. I imagine making love to...
April 2013
If I could have one super power, it would be the ability to breathe under water, so I could sit at the bottom of a swimming pool, and look up at the surface while it rains. (Should it feel so peaceful, so safe, to be totally engulfed in something, as it uncontrollably pours down on you?) And if I could accomplish anything, I would drown you in so much love, so that when you looked into my...
To say that you are cute would be like saying a strawberry is sweet. ‘Cause a straberry has secret flavors that are sharp and tart and red and deep. And I would love to find you growing wild out by the woods. I’d make a basket with the front of my t-shirt, and take home as many of you as I could. And to say that you are pretty would be like saying the ocean is blue. ‘Cause the ocean is...
“In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am...”
– Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena (via penseesduchoeur)
My attraction to a stranger is like a dragon fly — usually within 24 hours, it’s dead.
At the party I cut the first slice of cake thinking about how I would prove societies ‘moment on the lips, lifetime on the hips.’ theory wrong.
Most of the dust particles in your house are made up of dead skin. I must have shed myself a thousand times in front of you, during those six months.
Your body...
“A great way to learn about your country is to leave it.”
– Henry Rollins (via whygeorgie)
“I demand unconditional love and complete freedom. That is why I am terrible.”
– Tomaz Salamun (via stayven-carnivale)
“Animals never worry about Heaven or Hell. Neither do I. Maybe that’s why we get...”
– Charles Bukowski (via totalparanoia)
“By the time you swear you’re his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his...”
– Unfortunate Coincidence (Dorothy Parker)
He calls me “love”, and I could just melt inside. I am not his “baby” - someone he possesses or a thing that he owns. I am not “darling” or “sweetheart” or “dear” - a mere person that makes him smile. I am not “gorgeous” because I am not defined by my looks. I am not his “soulmate”, because the concept is far too unreliable.
I am a feeling - an indescribable emotion. I am the very thing people...
“Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow...”
– Nick Miller (via luciavictoria)
March 2013
“If you can’t laugh together in bed, the chances are you are incompatible,...”
– Richard Francis Burton (via wordsthat-speak)
I’ve spent my whole life trying to find the right words, thinking they had to be beautiful, to be intricate, to be strung together in a metaphor. I thought I had to say words no one has ever said before. And I tried to make them prolific, profound, bold, moving. I thought they should be universal, that they should make sense to everyone. I’ve spent my whole life...
