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your loving April

What I know of survival is this:
how to adjust my body around the cool spots in bed,
the way my hair is never exactly right
when I leave the house for a hopeful second date,
the imprint of my bra on my skin after coming home
and letting my dress pool at my feet.
Sleeping, alone.
Missing you and missing you.
I eat olives and arugula standing up in the kitchen,
wearing nothing except underwear and pearls.
I do not recognize myself.
Being sad only makes me thirsty.
I drink two glasses of water, take an aspirin,
dance with myself slowly in the living room.
Everything comes back to me in moments—
flashes of your skin, the freckles on your chest,
your perfect wrists, a kneecap, the small of your back.
I peel away the sadness to get down to the pit of the thing
and can never quite manage to finish it.
My hands smell like oranges, clove cigarettes.
Pounds of sadness. I get out of bed. I run the bath.
Chocolate shavings and blueberries for lunch.
Little things, but I am handling it.
Yesterday, I almost called you to tell you that I love you,
but then I remembered I’m not allowed to say it anymore,
and it is awful. You are with me even when I brush my teeth.
— Kristina Hayes, “Love So Good That I Forgot to Say ‘Ouch’” (via oofpoetry)


photographed by Akinori Ito for Spur May 2014.

Physics says: go to sleep. Of course
you’re tired. Every atom in you
has been dancing the shimmy in silver shoes
nonstop from mitosis to now.
Quit tapping your feet. They’ll dance
inside themselves without you. Go to sleep.
Geology says: it will be all right. Slow inch
by inch America is giving itself
to the ocean. Go to sleep. Let darkness
lap at your sides. Give darkness an inch.
You aren’t alone. All of the continents used to be
one body. You aren’t alone. Go to sleep.

Astronomy says: the sun will rise tomorrow,
Zoology says: on rainbow-fish and lithe gazelle,
Psychology says: but first it has to be night, so
Biology says: the body-clocks are stopped all over town
and
History says: here are the blankets, layer on layer, down and down.

Albert Goldbarth, “The Sciences Sing a Lullaby” (

(Source: oofpoetry)

Earth my body, water my blood
Air my breath and fire my spirit

(Source: earthlyflowerchild, via rocknrollisdead)

That is why it is so important to let certain things go. To release them. To cut loose. People need to understand that no one is playing with marked cards; sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Don’t expect to get anything back, don’t expect recognition for your efforts, don’t expect your genius to be discovered or your love to be understood. Complete the circle. Not out of pride, inability or arrogance, but simply because whatever it is no longer fits in your life. Close the door, change the record, clean the house, get rid of the dust. Stop being who you were and become who you are. — Paulo Coehlo

(Source: quote-book, via splitterherzen)

Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun.
Shine on you crazy diamond.

Now there’s a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.
Shine on you crazy diamond.

You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom, 
blown on the steel breeze.

Come on you target for faraway laughter, 
come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!
You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon.
Shine on you crazy diamond.

Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond.

Well you wore out your welcome with random precision,
rode on the steel breeze.

Come on you raver, you seer of visions, 
come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!

(Source: heatherincoldblood, via visam-in-spatiu-divin)

I want to get more comfortable being uncomfortable. I want to get more confident being uncertain. I don’t want to shrink back just because something isn’t easy. I want to push back, and make more room in the area between I can’t and I can. — Kristin Armstrong  

(Source: wordsthat-speak, via writersvineyard)

freedomtiger:


by ACUARELAS KUBI