Latest Tweets:
In the end these things matter most:
How well did you love? How fully did you live? How deeply did you let go?
~ Siddhartha Guatama
(by rocketrictic)
(Source: lucid-existence)
(Source: onlywhenidream)
(Source: dreamcoasting)
(Source: we-fear-unknown, via mia-mouse)
"Number Line"
127
When we first met
standing as a pair
on the school concrete
waiting for afternoon buses
I was in a pair
of green boots,
the kind men who work on electrical wire wear,
to prevent electrocution.
Rubber insulation sometimes proves faulty.
We had biology together,
our conductors defying the laws of physics.
125
When we first kissed,
sitting as a pair
in your new used-Civic,
I discovered the handle was broken.
I tasted your lips and they tasted like Sprite.
Like the movies we watched and secretly wanted to fall into
to fall in love like
and when I tried to escape,
wiggling a broken plastic,
dangling on metal wire,
attempting to cover shame and elation
I couldn’t leave.
It was a foreshadow
of chains
I told myself I’d never create
118
When we said I love you
our bare thighs intwined
on soft summer grass
growing easily into one another
fully
throwing ourself into
an existence, a reality
we desired so intensely
that this never felt like
choice
at all
112
When we spoke in closets
months later
separated
a dissonance created by
time and space and my
disappearing shape
I posited a pause button
oblivious to your movement
my bones worn too thin
to follow suit
91
I sit
in this car
with the broken handle
and my broken heart
and broken body
sitting alone with my tiny frame
where there was no room for a
heart big enough to
hold you
I had created
in a silence that was also
my own
—-
I lie with another
the ticking of the same clock
whose cadence once led
our breaths
I feel his breathing
present
in the absence of yours.
We lead parallel lives
no longer congruent in similitude
of shapes
but the same only in a certainty that
we will never again
intersect
(via osendentelle)