ne bouge pas

The first time
you took off your clothes
in front of me, you slid
the white fabric of your blouse
off your arms and revealed
the pale ladders
of scars.

You never referenced them
directly. You said you were
lost, once. You said you
did things, once, and you
did them because they
helped you survive yourself.

I didn’t say anything,
but you took my hand
and pressed it to the
ridged rows of your flesh
and for every line you left
upon yourself and healed,
I found another reason
to call you beautiful.

(Source: oofpoetry)

Trees talk to each other at night.
All fish are named either Lorna or Jack.
Before your eyeballs fall out from watching too much TV, they get very loose.
Tiny bears live in drain pipes.
If you are very very quiet you can hear the clouds rub against the sky.
The moon and the sun had a fight a long time ago.
Everyone knows at least one secret language.
When nobody is looking, I can fly.
We are all held together by invisible threads.
Books get lonely too.
Sadness can be eaten.
I will always be there.

(Source: words-in-lines)

So yes, we could kiss. I could kiss you and you could kiss me. There’s no science, plane ticket or clock stopping us. But if we kiss, it will end the world. And I’ve ended the world before. No one survived. Least of all me.

(Source: hellanne, via jessbend)

dear samantha
i’m sorry
we have to get a divorce
i know that seems like an odd way to start a love letter but let me explain:
it’s not you
it sure as hell isn’t me
it’s just human beings don’t love as well as insects do
i love you.. far too much to let what we have be ruined by the failings of our species

i saw the way you looked at the waiter last night
i know you would never DO anything, you never do but..
i saw the way you looked at the waiter last night

did you know that when a female fly accepts the pheromones put off by a male fly, it re-writes her brain, destroys the receptors that receive pheromones, sensing the change, the male fly does the same. when two flies love each other they do it so hard, they will never love anything else ever again. if either one of them dies before procreation can happen both sets of genetic code are lost forever. now that… is dedication.

after Elizabeth and i broke up we spent three days dividing everything we had bought together
like if i knew what pots were mine like if i knew which drapes were mine somehow the pain would go away

this is not true

after two praying mantises mate, the nervous system of the male begins to shut down
while he still has control over his motor functions
he flops onto his back, exposing his soft underbelly up to his lover like a gift
she then proceeds to lovingly dice him into tiny cubes
spooning every morsel into her mouth
she wastes nothing
even the exoskeleton goes
she does this so that once their children are born she has something to regurgitate to feed them
now that.. is selflessness

i could never do that for you

so i have a new plan
i’m gonna leave you now
i’m gonna spend the rest of my life committing petty injustices
i hope you do the same
i will jay walk at every opportunity
i will steal things i could easily afford
i will be rude to strangers
i hope you do the same
i hope reincarnation is real
i hope our petty crimes are enough to cause us to be reborn as lesser creatures
i hope we are reborn as flies
so that we can love each other as hard as we were meant to.

(Source: theoryoflostthings, via grammatolatry)

To think, a sweater, is made entirely of knots. My stomach could clothe a village.

(Source: oofpoetry, via jessbend)

At that moment I was sure. That I belonged in my skin. That my organs were mine and my eyes were mine and my ears, which could only hear the silence of this night and my faint breathing, were mine, and I loved them and what they could do.

(Source: pavorst, via fleurishes)

In this world
love has no color

yet how deeply
my body
is stained by yours.

(Source: sleepylotus)

At first, heartbreak made me beautiful.
My skin fluoresced. I hypnotized trees.
The orphans followed me around town,
drunk on my pain. I ate only my own
hunger, gave off a scent like bitter oranges
or chlorine. Loss left me strangely whole,
as if my sadness, were it strong enough,
could turn your ship around. That was back
when I aged. Now, like an astronomer
who seeks no first causes, but only to map
the connections pinned out over the sea,
I want to diagram the light that shines out
through the holes you pricked into me.

(Source: gammasandgerunds, via fleurishes)

In the space where my wife’s wings must have been
there are no scars, no broken screws, hinges
or binding clips. There is only her skin.
Though grateful, I experience a twinge

of guilt — that we can’t locate the feathers
which rifled her over landfills, carried
her body beyond Earth. These were severed,
erased when she opted to be married

to a man built with more clay than wind. When
she asks, Can you please scratch my back, my hands
know she means, This is how we have chosen
to fall: without memory, meant to land

with what catches us. This means me. Her skin,
left exposed inside a new, coarse Eden.

(Source: commovente)

But most days,
I wander around feeling invisible.
Like I’m a speck of dust
floating in the air
that can only be seen
when a shaft of light hits it.

(Source: dormio, via fleurishes)