Posts tagged Love
Maursupial
I'm pale and mild; a modern girl
Spoiler alert?
Did you know when you’re sad/lonely romcoms are not entertaining/funny?
Oh you did? Why didn’t you tell me…
Dear diary,
My head knows things don’t work out, but my heart never got that message. I think you shatter pretty easily at twenty-one, but maybe the pieces are easier to pick up too. There are birds outside my window and they are singing.
There were so many poems I hadn’t sent you yet.
Read through my lines?
There’s a purple-orange sunset radiating through this library window
And I’m trying to be content in the small things
Do your notes in the margins count?
This is what warmth tastes like.
Amen.
text reads: this doesn’t compare to the feel of your skin
^ Friday, Friday.
(via andrewjwv)
^ Melting, melding, two to one.
I wish you were here.
Autumn is the hardest season.
The leaves are all falling,
and they’re falling like they’re falling in love with the ground
and the trees are naked and lonely.
I keep trying to tell them
new leaves will come around in the spring,
but you can’t tell trees those things,
they’re like me,
they just stand there
and don’t listen.
Andrea Gibson (via rarararambles)
^ I hope you don’t listen either.
(via myfriendmademedothis)
My gift to you
My gift to you will be an abyss, she said,
but it will be so subtle you’ll perceive it
only after many years have passed
and you are far from Mexico and me.
You’ll find it when you’ll need it most,
and that won’t be
the happy ending,
but it will be an instant of emptiness and joy.
And maybe then you’ll remember me,
if only just a little.— Roberto Bolaño
^ Only just a little.
Act my age?
I need a romantic partner who, when he asks what I want to do and I say “build a blanket fort,” takes me very seriously.
I don’t need no one, but I sure want you.
Your promise?
Time moves so steady
Beating hearts kept constant pace
But not your promise
^ Plenty of reason.
My first haiku?
Meandering mind
Skims errands, streets, the paper
But stumbles on you
Are you sorry?
I hate this and I hate you.
I—
I don’t hate you.
Those words look shockingly stark, so horrifically wrong.
I’m sorry I wrote them.
But I need them there to remind me
what to feel
when you don’t feel anything at all.
Hating you is just easier then concentrating on the sounds:
Ears ringing with regrets in my own voice,
Heart’s seams splitting- aching, fleshy tears,
the sounds of your breath when you sleep.
I’m sorry I wrote them.
Jen Faulkner
^ That we should all someday feel so furiously. Poetry in ocean.
(via whitepaperquotes)
Press Pause?
I want to exist in the pauses
between
The lines of prose rolled deliberately from your tongue,
Your fingers suspended and my goosebumps as they skim,
Drags from your cigarette on midnights hung heavy with humidity
My murmured, hackneyed pun and your purest, toothy grin,
Now and when it’s over
