punctuation
lots of times
i’ve heard about
people curving
around their lovers
like apostrophes
and commas
and ellipses
but when you
brush your
swollen lips
against my
shivering spine
grammar goes
right out the
window.
I look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
“
| — | Frank O’ Hara (Having a Coke With You) |
Here is what I know:
You drink your coffee black and we are afraid of each other.
Once you kissed my neck in front of your friends
and it made me very shy.
Once you kissed my stomach and I started crying.
I see the tender way you touch things and want to kiss your nose
but I keep my mouth to myself.
Your collarbones are craters big enough to fit my fist into.
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in months.
I was not good to the last person I loved so I punished my heart
(I let it break and bleed out then roughly sewed it back together)
It is hard to write poems when I only know how to fuck you.
I am always trying. I am thinking of Somedays. I am saying goodbye.
You asked why I never write anything honest so I am writing you this.
You drink your coffee black and we are afraid of each other.
Once you kissed my neck in front of your friends
and it made me very shy.
Once you kissed my stomach and I started crying.
I see the tender way you touch things and want to kiss your nose
but I keep my mouth to myself.
Your collarbones are craters big enough to fit my fist into.
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in months.
I was not good to the last person I loved so I punished my heart
(I let it break and bleed out then roughly sewed it back together)
It is hard to write poems when I only know how to fuck you.
I am always trying. I am thinking of Somedays. I am saying goodbye.
You asked why I never write anything honest so I am writing you this.
“
| — | (via clementinevonradics) |
how to love your depressed lover.
Last night I thought I kissed
the loneliness from out your belly button.
I thought I did, but later you sat up,
all bones and restless hands, and told me
there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo.I never know what to say to these things.
“It’s okay.” “Come back to bed.”
“Please don’t go away again.”Sometimes you are gone for days at a time
and it is all I can do not to call the police,
file a missing person’s report, even though
you are right there, still sleeping next to me
in bed. But your eyes are like an empty house
in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders.Except in this case I am the intruder and you
are already locked up so tight that no one
could possibly jimmy their way in.Last night I thought I gave you a reason
not to be so sad when I held your body like
a high note and we both trembled from the effort.Some people, though, are sad against all reason,
all sensibility, all love. I know better now.
I know what to say to the things you admit to me
in the dark, all bones and restless hands.“It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.”
“Please come back to me again.”
If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
“
| — | Sylvia Plath, “A Rival” (via memorieswerenot) |
I kept thinking how marvelous it would be if I could somehow tear my heart, which felt so heavy, out of my chest.
“
| — | Anton Chekhov (via allegorys) |
