And the hibiscus stretches its
The rinds of our chewed up love
Fertilizing the very soil of
Our missteps, missed opportunities.
I built a fence around our property
With my bare hands,
No longer careful to avoid the nails
That speck the pinewood like
Swigs of blackberry brandy
Tucked in the space between your
Shoulder and elbow,
Under the influence of your
Breath, gaze, touch,
I’m missing your
And with that,
The Earth opened up its mouth and
Poured whole grains into the
Hands of all the cities I could
Never wash off my
Underneath all of this, I’ve got the veins of an addict. He and I, breathing in sync; our hands like cutting boards: coarse, broken lines, mimicking television role reversals. I watch the weather through the nursery window while I hold my own blood, sweat, and tears in my arms. The years passing too quickly already.
I wait for his stone colored eyes to settle on mine. Aware of how fragile our fingers are when they’re interlocked together. I want his sleep to stay this innocent forever.
Nothing makes sense, though, unless you’ve been there yourself.
"If someday the moon calls you by your name don’t be surprised,
Because every night I tell her about you."
Shahrazad al-Khalij (via thelemongrove)
"I start to see you everywhere. I see you in the warped shine of my coffee spoon, the green lake by my house, the oily puddle in the road. I see your face in the clouds too and every girl in the distance is you, every cashier in the supermarket, every silhouette, every fist on the door is you coming back to me. I have taken your image and broken it up, scattered it into my world. This is how I keep you, I make you a ghost, force you to haunt me, hope you never stop."
Beth McColl (via thehoneyeater)
"When you’re young, you think everything you do is disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time in your hands, tossing it away. You’re your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and people too — leave them behind. You don’t yet know about the habit they have, of coming back.
Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you’ve been."
Margaret Atwood, “The Blind Assassin” (via lifeinpoetry)
"I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know there’s nothing but light when I see you."
Shinji Moon (via petrichour)
There have been what feels like
six thousand four hundred and ninety three sleepless hours
that I’ve spent without makeup on.
Feeling under the weather and
Chopped into little pieces,
Sections of my skin hanging off me
Like loose fitting clothes.
I’m never naked anymore,
And yet, the love I feel fills me
To a numbing point where
My apricot heart bursts like a
I’m not sure if I’m headed in the
But I’m driving,
And the snow looks beautiful
My baby boy is already a week old. I can’t believe it. Snow fluttered from the sky as we drove to the hospital, unsure and nervous, wanting to find our footing quickly. The love I have for this small little boy just pours from my body. Sometimes I don’t want to sleep, because I would rather hold him than do anything else. We are so in love with him, with one another. And the way our lives have changed so drastically only brings us closer. I love every second with the both of them.