Sunday, February 27, 2011

so that's it, isn't it?
if it doesn't reek of love it isn't
writing.
we're 19 and we're still kids
the world owes us everything.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

they hide their ears all over the room
in the collar of the dog next door and in
the cereal box

close your eyes, you can hear them listen.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

i would kiss the
holes in her wrists and whisper to Babylon
hidden in her fingertips.

Monday, February 21, 2011

loving you feels like driving with all the windows down
on the wrong side of the road

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

plans are made and they aren't too clear but
i cannot wait another year

i need you in my arms and i need it soon.

Monday, February 14, 2011



i'd tear every star from the sky and
sewn them into my skin-;
anything to shine for you


can we do the slow
lazy river that flows like molasses
thick sugar love.
impatiently,
you worship me like the sun
aching for the line of the sea
at night and
i wear a groove into your bones and
sleep forever.
in the morning you are already the sky
yearning

Sunday, February 13, 2011

theres a thousand people in the world but only one
who could make me feel lonely
just by leaving the room.

Friday, February 11, 2011

a quartering

i never knew burning bridges took more than just
lighting a fire.

we could count our regrets like little pebbles
but lets be honest
who wants a pile of rocks?


if they ever wrote a book about my life
it would probably suck too.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

.

and if any of the song writers knew anything about being in love
they'd write novels instead.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

and i hope you think i'm winter

she had a way with hearts and how they could break
around her eyelashes.
she asked if we could run away
and moved her hips to the sound of my pen.


i didn't write you love poems- they
wrote themselves.
every caesura// her fingers
curling around my brain stem.

et l'hiver est beau parce qu'il est mort


you give me the
snowday, finding 20$ in an old pair of jeans
warm stomach

kind of feeling

Sunday, February 6, 2011

reason 125 we should get married

no one else can make me cum

andie's story about a coffee pot and an empty room.

she burns.
the stale warm air reminding her of
something inside. and she thinks [maybe]
if you cut her open something rotten might just [figuratively]
seep through her skin
[.but quite literally.]

xxx

you sit there for hours, writing on the backs of napkins [paper bags, the walls, anything]. you hate to write but you do it anyway because
you love her
and this is what people who are in love do for each other. they write all of it down and they kiss the corners of each others mouths and they send christmas cards together to all of the relatives who used to mock them. and every single word reminds you of how much you hate everything [sentences, punctuation, her voice when she talks to you] so you write and write and sleeping doesn't matter anymore because there's so much to say. she calls the doctors on you and she cries on the phone and you just write in the next room over and you think, 'hypocrite.'. it always rains but that's okay because she buys you a raincoat and hugs for a very long time and you
[kind of] sink.

she's quiet and you're quiet and the apartment feels empty. she worries about the writing. she worries about you. [but not enough]. she cries a lot and it makes you so mad because she's always had everything handed to her and you have nothing. can't she see that you have nothing? you spend hours in bed trying to memorize every curve of her because she's so faint now and any day now she might just, disappear. your misery is her misery and she feeds off you.
you and her.
practically sharing the bullet
and you're very surprised when she leaves.



fuck.
you sell everything. the dishes, the bed, the table, the fucking floor rugs [she liked those the best]. you sit in the bare rooms at night and you call her voicemail just to hear her voice. you paint the walls. you tear up the carpeting. you throw up a lot. you try to keep busy.


she comes back though.
and it's not the same because
she's better and you're not and she has to take care of you now.
you're unhappy and she's unhappy but it's okay because this is what people do when they are in love.
they scream and they cling and they steal each others breath.
so she lays on the mattress in the living room and you smoke too many cigarettes and your mouth always tastes like coffee [she notices].
she stops worrying about the writing
and all of her days are good days now.


this time you aren't surprised when she leaves.

Friday, February 4, 2011



madness like a mouse crawled
from the
cupboard and i renamed all the colors

'you'


bukowski was a drunk and
athena was a virgin.
i think i'll love you until i die.

obligatory letter to the ex[look, i'm trying to be nice.]

you're so
better than
aren't you?

[you broke my heart into a million little pieces and maybe that's why
i don't want to be friends]

Thursday, February 3, 2011

forever is a long long time when you've lost your way.

perhaps happiness is merely a pacification

if you hang enough picture frames
even hell begins to look like home.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

from little to big. [for life]

Hi everybody, I have to take this moment to talk about my amazingly beautiful and talented girlfriend (on the right) who I love more than anything on this planet. If you like my blog, you should definitely go read hers. She writes me love poems too and you can find that here. Thank you all for your time (go follow her blog immediately because she is so talented and beautiful and amazing and I love her.)

Also this was definitely written by my girlfriend but do what she says anyway because all of those things are true. :)