"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.
A Letter to my First Born
Tomorrow, you are due. I can’t believe how slowly these past two hundred and eighty days have gone, yet how quickly I’ve felt the time slipping through my fingers. I went from 24 to 25, your father 26 to 27. We gained wisdom and property and all of the celestial knowledge we needed to get through this. You’ll someday realize the magnitude of hearing you’re expecting a child, and you’ll eventually understand that time is relative; that there is nothing you can do to stop it and nothing you can do to speed it up. We make our own definitions for everything. That is something I hope to teach you in all the years we have together.
I am panicked about meeting you for the first time because I have a difficult time with love. It’s a scary thing coming face-to-face with your first blood relative. That’s what you are to me. Being adopted, I know nothing of my own birth family, the way they smell, the way they act, how they look. And yet, I am so sure you will look like your father, a piece of a man I can’t believe I ever lived without, and you should be grateful for this. His piercing eyes and the way his hair falls so casually - your own features will be a reflection of who he is, who we are as a couple, and who I am as an individual. I am holding out hope.
I wrote you a thousand poems while your tiny body formed in mine. They came as stretch marks, red lines painting the folds of my skin and each one represents a certain struggle and passion and desire I have to keep you safe and innocent. I didn’t always have that myself - that innocence - and I promise you now, today, the day before, that you will be a part of me forever.
I guess until right this moment, I hadn’t realized how much you’ve changed me. My moon baby, my hunter. You are a sapphire underneath a microscope; you glisten inside of me like the brightest sun. Waiting to meet the light. Waiting to see how the world unfolds for you.
39 weeks pregnant. Feeling guilty that Hunter could show while our best friend is sedated in a hospital bed. This isn’t exactly how I had imagined February going. So much snow, a birthday, a craving for valentines chocolate (I guess that one is expected), and endless typewriter musings. I’m unamused.