june 3rd by myself (sorry i havent posted a poem recently)


june 3rd by myself (sorry i havent posted a poem recently)


"In the particular - lies the universal." J. Victore
Iowa. April, 2014. 


It is so easy
for me to love you
that it frightens me.
I’ve never been good
at anything.
But I’ve never wanted
anything so much as
I want to hold you
every waking minute.
And every night
while I sleep.
The question has ceased to be
‘How do I love you?’
and has become
‘How would I ever stop?’


(Source: brittholly)


little moon by myself


little moon by myself

(Source: deanvictorr)

1. When you kiss me, it tastes like nitrogen. You told me not to be afraid, but I’ve always been explosive.
2. I’m trying to write about us in a way that doesn’t seem like an emergency call to the ER. It’s not working.
3. You never told me you could leave my lungs leeching blood. Is this what beauty is?
4. Christ, sometimes you’re all I can think about.
5. I can’t put you into words. Most days, I don’t know how to breathe when you speak to me. You’ve taken away almost everything and I don’t even mind.
6. Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave.
7. I shouldn’t give your silence enough power to bring me to my knees. But I have – I think I’m already lost.
8. We’re going to fall in love, aren’t we?
9. I’m afraid the next time I try to say your name, it will come out please stay.
10. I’ve kissed many people, but none as beautiful as you.
Love has been many things. But never mine.

Thoughts on You After Dark | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

You’re carrying around a picture of the wrong girl
left over from this summer, and I’m afraid that hers
is the face you’re kissing goodnight
when the sun sets over California.
Here in New Hampshire, I’m shaking in my skin
at the thought of you coming back in three months,
and the anticipation rips butterflies from my stomach
and sends them out my mouth.

I haven’t told you yet that I was a virgin
before we pressed ourselves together
in the back seat of your car, and that I didn’t even know
the meaning of the word “spontaneous”
until you were all hands and mouth
and glorious, incredible beauty.

I’m envious of the steel-strong airplanes
that got to carry you inside for hours longer than I did –
I finally understood the idea of “full.”

Now I’m solving equations, trying to calculate
how many hours until you’ll be back.
I don’t think you knew I had never climbed onto the roof
to count the stars until you had coaxed me up there
with soft words and softer hands;
we couldn’t last, not between my shy introversion
and your exuberance.

You said you were my Orion,
and you’d chase the sky to find me,
but all I saw were three stars and
how beautiful
and vast you were.

I’d never seen a world so expanded
until you had shown me yours.

Summer Nights | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

i. To my body, for trying to destroy the only real home I will ever know. I have tried to change you like the seasons, and what was once a blank white canvas is now a piece of art, though you are no masterpiece. I wanted so badly to make you unrecognisable, starving you until you were throwing up nothing but your own spit. You are a temple and you are my home, I should not have tried to burn you down.

ii. To my father; I should not blame you for my inability to love anything. But I can’t help but think of the sound the door made as you made your way out when a boy tells me he thinks he could really love me. My heart does not shatter the same as everyone else’s. My heart shatters because I destruct myself before anybody else can get close enough to see inside. Fuck you for leaving, fuck you for not calling for ten years, fuck you for being the reason I cannot trust another man again. I’m sorry that I made you want to leave.

iii. To my best friend. I’m sorry I never ask you how you’re doing when I notice your feet dragging along the floor and the tiredness that haunts your eyes. I’m sorry that when you say you want to drown yourself inside out with a bottle of pills all I can whisper is, “me too.” I have seen darkness and I have seen light, and neither are appealing to me. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t really know how to exist myself. All I know is that things won’t always be this heavy for you. For either of us. Hold onto that.

iv. To the boy who loves me too much. I’m sorry that you grew up believing that girls are easy to love. Nothing about loving me is easy. I am a goddamn labyrinth. I will wake you up by kissing your eyelids and by 2 o’clock I will be screaming at you until I am left breathless and feeling sick. I am my fathers cruelness and my best friends sadness. By loving me, you are loving everyone that I have ever met.

v. To the last person I lost. I made my palms bleed the night you died. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a new set of lungs or breathe more life into you.

A LIST OF APOLOGIES I OWE // m.g. (via wondermjay)

But remember, there are two ways to dehumanize someone: by dismissing them, and by idolizing them.

David Wong   (via selfvindicated)

(Source: gassions)


inhale by myself


inhale by myself