I am a child of spring
And my prime is sweetest autumn
And yet, I seek only to winter with you
To the end of our days
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 11:08 PM UTC
We're too old,
You and I,
To be showing up on each other's doorsteps late at night
We are not children,
With Forever laid out before us
like the roads of Rome
But you are a balm to my soul
And the eye in my storm
And for this
If nothing else
you will be remembered.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
she moves in red silk
a ghazal on white marble
Smile of the Blue Lord
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
she likes a little bitterness in her food
a little hunger in her kisses
a little sweetness in her tears
a little irony in her wishes
give her flowers in the street
and post Novembers on her walls
write her playlists to sleep to
and run with her when rain falls
walk the long road with her
as cruel as it may be
she will warm you to her very last--
if you would share her story.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
Write what you feel.
Heaven knows no one else will.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
This is life.
You learn to hide everything behind your eyes so you don't cry.
You learn to laugh at anything and everything so no one sees your weakness.
You learn that giving in means giving someone the power to hurt you.
But at the end of the day, you're just as messed up as the rest of them.
There will be days when you will lie broken at someone's feet, nights you will soak your miseries into their shoulders.
And when you've nothing left in you, you can only hope that they will hold you and kiss your eyes so you know you're still beautiful.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
I left your house--
the house I'd hoped would be ours--
and all I could think about is,
out of all the people in the world,
only you feel like home.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
I watch them watch each other.
They play a game of touch-and-go, and all the while the clock is counting down.
One of these days, I want to walk with them, and then take their hands and place them in each other's.
I want to tell her:
"Tell me you don't feel this. Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you don't believe in this. Tell me this isn't still the realest thing you'll ever know. Tell me you don't wake up every day hurting for this. Tell me this simplest touch doesn't make you feel whole again. Tell me the thought of letting go again doesn't scare you to death.
Because you know what?
He feels this. He wants this. And oh god does he believe in it, despite how much hell it's dragging him through. It's still the realest thing he's ever known. He wakes up every day hurting and hoping for this. I can tell you for **** sure this tiniest bit of contact makes him feel whole again, and if you let go and walk away again, it will **** him.
So, if you can tell me all that, if you can let go and not break your own heart as well as his, then do it. But do it knowing all that you're giving up this time. Do it knowing that, if this doesn't **** both of you, you'll have an emptiness inside you for the rest of your life."
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
You've never called me "beautiful."
...I would remember if you did.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 9:23 PM UTC