I’m shadow puppeteering
our next kissing contest,
funded by the grant
of your lower lip.
My hands collect your back
like taxes. I want more fingers,
toes, freckles as abacuses
to count your return.
Your mouth auto corrects
my body language. Your voice
hangs like streamers. I walk
— Jesse Bradley, “You Can’t Spell Monogamy Without ‘Mono’” (via haleighhappiness)
(Source: commovente, via alonesomes)
1:30 pm 1,710 notes
“You too know that all my eyes see, all touch with myself, from any distance, is you. The caress of fabrics, the color of colors, the wires, the nerves, the pencils, the leaves, the dust, the cells, the war and the sun, everything experienced in the minutes of the non-clocks and the non-calendars and the empty non-glances, is you.”
— Frida Kahlo, from The Diary Of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait (via violentwavesofemotion)
12:01 pm 543 notes
Last night, I ran for the nearest bus passing
but let it forget to let me on.
Last night, the lake was a teaspoon
of black sky and somewhere,
you unremembered my name.
Every doorframe in my house
seems to wait for you.
The sink leaks and the dishes
fall out of my hands.
They never break,
just clang and clang
and remind me how quiet
everything is afterwards.
Soon, though, I’ll wrap myself in lace
and cut my hem a little lower
and walk the night alone.
Soon, I’ll holds my heels in my hands
and the pebbles on the sidewalk
will hurt my feet.
Soon, I’ll be okay.
I miss you
doesn’t mean I want you back.
I miss you
doesn’t mean I need you to fix this.
I miss you only means
one day I won’t.
— Soon | Ramna Safeer (via inkywings)
5:01 pm 190 notes
“I want to get to know you once for all, and I want you to know me. And then to say good-bye. I believe it’s always best to get to know people just before leaving them. I’ve noticed how you’ve been looking at me. There has been a continual look of expectation in your eyes, and I can’t endure that. That’s how it is I’ve kept away from you. But in the end I’ve learned to respect you. You do stand firm, don’t you? I like people who are firm like that whatever it is they stand by. Your expectant eyes ceased to annoy me, I grew fond of them in the end, those expectant eyes. I understand something in you and you seem to love me for some reason.”
— Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (via whyallcaps)
12:48 pm 125 notes
“For the dinner table.
For the men who have made you
believe that you are some place that
can be left.
You move like a thief in a jewelry store,
always poised for an alarm, for
a mistake, and I don’t know how
to tell you that the diamonds are already yours.
For the coffee mug with your name on it.
For the yoga mat in the closet
that is forgetting your hands.
I want to be with you in the place where you have not made yourself small,
in the place where you still love my poetry and don’t smile like surrender.
For the home in your throat.
For your ankles.
For the prayer in your teeth.
I love you like freedom.
I love you like there is no room for anything else.
I love you like straight spine.
I wish you would stand up and meet me there.”
— Caitlyn Siehl, For the Dinner Table (via alonesomes)
8:29 pm 1,105 notes