Don’t tell her
there are steps
on her spine
you’d like to climb
or that she’s
the reason
behind rhymes
because there’s
more to her
than the crescent
moons encapsulating
her lips
and the phases
of her smile.Don’t tell her
she’s got hyacinth
or thistle
in her veins,
that the plains of
her palms
are gates to secret gardens.
Tell her
she’s ashes
and smoke,
the burn of
Southern Comfort
on your throat
and all of those
acquired tastes
you’d miss
if you had to go
without them
for a day.
everyone has a rotting carpet to pay for.
i hold my breath and wait for ours.
our soft-wooden door frames and damp drywall.
i have written out my farewell letter to my family and friends. they
won’t let me go, and neither will yours.
but still i apply for jobs. still i save money and get…
Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye, “An Origin Story” (via larmoyante) —
I haven’t seen my dog in 4 weeks,
so the last time I pet her
was 28 days ago
the clothes I was wearing
that day
have been washed
about 2 times
I haven’t lived with her
since the end of January
That’s four months
and too many days to count
And yet I still find
her dog hair clinging
to a stuffed animal,
in between my journal pages,
in the corner of a sock,
tucked into my pockets
and
to be honest,
I kinda miss her dog fur
being everywhere
