"poetry"タグの名言

This fake smile cracks as the sun lowers down Rubble coats your mouth like powdered sugar It tastes so sweet AS PAIN OFTEN DOES

This tedious letter to you . . . what is one life to another?

What I Should Have Said There's nothing that says you can't call. I spend the weekdays teaching and moving my children from breakfast to bedtime. What else, I feel like a traitor telling someone else things I can't tell to you. What is it that keeps us together? Fingertip to fingertip, from Santa Fe to Albuquerque? I feel bloated with what I should say and what I don't. We drift and drift, with few storms of heat inbetween the motions. I love you. The words confuse me. Maybe they have become a cushion keeping us in azure sky and in flight not there, not here. We are horses knocked out with tranquilizers sucked into a deep deep sleeping for the comfort and anesthesia death. We are caught between clouds and wet earth and there is no motion either way no life to speak of.

The Male is perhaps a rough symphony. Cymbals, trumpets announcing an entrance, a presence. A back talk, eye rolled, sighing concerto that hits the highest note of retreation. But you come back for the elation, like a Beethoven, a cloud number ten. Just when you think It's finished, just when you think it’s time for bed.

You don’t block the window anymore. The breeze is cooler without the thick sweat of your breath. Air more fresh, not stained by the dirty words delivered. This space kisses me in ways you never could

Does your body belong to you? Does it do what you tell it to? If the man comes over and through, Does your body belong to you?

It happens often. More than you know. Like when you made me a flower out of the paper scraps I felt guilty throwing away. Like when we sustain eye contact and your pupils start sparkling. Like when you inch closer to me so our skin can touch, and I just want to fall deep, deep down into you (or want you to fall deep, deep down into me). But. I am afraid of how I fall. But. I don't know how to come back to the ground after diving into the ocean. So. I keep falling silently. In my head. In my hips. And I want you to notice. Or.

There was magic. Some kind of alchemy. I don't remember the moment you transformed from a prop into a main character. No, that's not what happened. I don't remember when you shape- shifted from an elf into a Prince. No, that isn't it either. What I really mean is: I don't know if we were meant to fall into each other all along or if you were just in the right place at the right time. Yes, I found safety in your arms in the middle of a hurricane I chose to escape, and I still don't know how it would have turned out if someone else came to my door that day. Or if you never held me. Or if I never cried. Or if everything hadn't been so fairy tale. Until it wasn't. Do you see the magic now, now that it's too late? Do you still remember me? Do I still remember you? And what, in the end, have we learned? Is it really better to have loved and lost? Was it love for you? Who now is dying faster from the lonely?

I want to be held, and the things that hold me down do half a job. Some days, I can't even fix it. Some days, I rot on the inside and refuse to cut myself down. Some days, my fruits hit pavement, explode with seeds meant for soil; and only I understand what a wreckage my smile is. Joy is a weight. It's heavy. Can't you carry it for me while I dance around the void, run my nails down its spine? Put a hand on each hip, square your shoulders, grip tightly. The future is trying to take me. Hold me back. Hold me down. Hold on until you're done and forget that I've drifted away before you reach for your pants. Because you knew, didn't you? A blindfold knows its job. And at the end of the day, the most selfish thing is trying to help another person.

It burns, I know. It burns now, now that the story is over, now that the daybreak is liquid, now that my knees don't creak anymore and the leaves are blowing and the highway is humming, and a few extra pounds is not a terminal diagnosis. It burns in me too healing me but the ache is not for you. It's for my passion. That used to be your name. And it's sad, really. The sting of too little too late.

If only two were one, it was us.

The basic rules of male-female relations were imparted atmospherically in our family, no direct speech allowed.

That love can be a band: tears if you pull it too hard, but also flexible enough to stretch around the most chaotic mass

I forgot who I was before the (space) suit, before gravity was ripped from my vocabulary and I mastered the art of drifting

I just know, You are going to completely lose me. I just know, I no longer want you to want me. I just know, I don’t want to wait for you anymore. I realized, You are not someone made for me. I understood that, You don’t deserve my love. I just know, You are going to completely lose me.

My heart That is unaware of dreams Whispers your name From all the corners

He says nothing yet How do I understand everything Why does my soul vent out the anger At someone my heart adores Why do his words go straight To my heart and Deep into the soul Why does the time fail In telling the truth

I hope that our paths would never diverge And that we don't get lost As we keep walking In my silence I sing the songs of your love I shine From the moment I met you

Watching you stare into space in the tidy rows of the vegetable garden, ostensibly working hard while actually doing the worst job possible, I think you are a small irritating purple thing and I would like to see you walk off the face of the earth because you are all that's wrong with my life and I need you and I claim you.

She is now dancing with someone else to the song that reminded me of us.