Dear Lover, VI

There’s a young woman down the street,
married and abandoned by her husband
the same year. And I can’t think pass now
when the next summer is due, too preoccupied
thinking how love is like a pair of shoes,
they’re always so sparkly while they’re new.

4 days ago with 100 notes

What’s veiled in the darkness
is her moistened face and you
confuse her sniffs for a cold,
it has been raining for days.
Where are you, one hundred
and forty pounds of flesh on a cot
three inches away her dilapidated state.
She curses you, calls you a boy, an idiot.

1 week ago with 81 notes

Bless the hand for what was writ
or bless the mind for its wit
but most of all bless the throbbing heart
from where in its depths, it all did start.

1 week ago with 99 notes

1 week ago with 13,755 notes
originally high-aliens

I worry I’m holding you too tight,
I worry I will not hold you enough
here in my arms, fragile as a child,
young at ten days, my love, our love.

1 week ago with 196 notes

1 week ago with 49,021 notes
originally sarabande

So this is how it feels, I am a lit wick
or the wax melting from the heat.
I am alive and I am dying
and I have not touched yet your skin.

So I must burn then, no less
when I’m let to run my fingertips
‘your skin. We are two stars in a universe,
fusing. I have no option but to burst.

1 week ago with 200 notes


On the subject, what shall I fear
among things that kill, a bullet, a knife, a spear?
An arrow to the chest may seize my breath
but your farewell is a blade and also delivers death.
And is more cruel, with certainty, an arrow strikes only once
whereas if I live to a hundred, to a hundred the heartbreak spans.

2 weeks ago with 167 notes

Why won’t you be quiet?
Even the wind knows not to disrupt
the trees so late in the evening.
But you brute would hiss throughout
the night, for my name, for your name -
(you scold me)
Why, I have not forgotten it yet.

2 weeks ago with 146 notes

Hell exists.
it’s here.
3 a.m.
awake and
without you.
Beau Taplin, "Hell exists." (via afadthatlastsforever)

2 weeks ago with 53,702 notes
originally afadthatlastsforever

How, the sky as my witness
I had stitched last night my chest
with a needle, a thread of nylon,
quick hands as good as a surgeon.

But he comes and preparations
are lost, his presence adding insult
to a wound sutured and gauzed.
I am all the same, bloodied and wan.
Oh he comes and as soon, I become undone.

2 weeks ago with 139 notes

Old wretch heart were you cropped off a stone,
or the veins rust with crusting blood,
how to resuscitate the dying back to life -
I would like to shiver and be thrilled to the bone.

2 weeks ago with 115 notes

We are impervious except to ourselves.

3 weeks ago with 49 notes

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