forever is the sweetest con (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
delacourtings) wrote2013-06-13 03:51 am
delacourtings) wrote2013-06-13 03:51 am
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As humans, we ruin everything we touch.
I have my mother’s mouth
and my father’s eyes;
on my face they are still together.
and my father’s eyes;
on my face they are still together.
For fear you will be alone
you do so many things
that aren’t you at all.
you do so many things
that aren’t you at all.
Don’t kiss me
like they do
in the movies.
Kiss me
like they do
on the emergency broadcast news.
like they do
in the movies.
Kiss me
like they do
on the emergency broadcast news.
"It’s so beautiful,” she said, gazing at the eagle.
“It’s no wonder it takes not just the earth but the sky
to contain it."
“It’s no wonder it takes not just the earth but the sky
to contain it."
Edited 2013-12-30 20:44 (UTC)
"You're my source, Gabrielle. When I reach down inside myself and do things that I'm not capable of, it's because of you."
"I'll see ya."
"When?"
"Back here. Or in heaven."
"Do you really think we're gonna get into heaven?"
"Ah, you and me together. God wouldn't have the balls to keep us out."
"When?"
"Back here. Or in heaven."
"Do you really think we're gonna get into heaven?"
"Ah, you and me together. God wouldn't have the balls to keep us out."
"How do you know? I mean, how do you really know you can trust me?
"I don't. That's what trust is."
"I don't. That's what trust is."
If you don't believe in magic, then you can't believe in reality.
One's friends are that part of the human race with which one can be human.
The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - that you'd thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you've never met, maybe even someone long dead. And it's as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.
Losing family, forces us to find our family. Not necessarily the family that is our blood but the family that can become our blood.
It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.
asymptote (n.)
two lines always moving closer to one another but never crossing.
two lines always moving closer to one another but never crossing.
even after the entire world has taken me apart, there's still a part of me left for you.
I am writing a book on how to write a book so I can learn how to properly explain why you look better with the lights on. I listen to a song but it doesn't mention your name so I stop listening to the song. Your heart is noise pop. White noise is ghosts missing the streamers that fall from your ears while you sing in the car. Vermont is not far if you are already in Vermont. My cat looks at me and then walks away. He is named either after a famous musician or a body of water. There are so many words I refuse to learn how to spell. Still, I spell check your thighs after I bend you over my desk. I spell check the inside of your left ear while you bite yourself on the kitchen table. Prostrate. Today I am writing in grunts, playing in fonts. My chest hair is size 44 Comic Sans. My eyebrows are whittled away before I leave the mall. I have set under the same sun as you for 25 years. Sometimes I have walked under the same sun as you. Repetition sun. Staccato sun. Wrinkled sun. I tell your skin that covers your clavicle we've got at least 53 more years of holding hands on a beach under the same sun.. The sequel to this poem is John Cusack holding a boombox over his head under barely any sun. Fact:I want to kiss your nose even when I'm not inside you.
My life is yawning at me like a big white sheet of paper that I am supposed to fill with writing, but I can't produce a single letter. My head is an empty ballroom, a few weathered roses and crinkled ribbons on the floor, cracked violins in the corner, the last dancers have put down their masks and are looking at each other with worn out eyes.
The things is
to love life
to love it even when you have no stomach for it,
when everything you've held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands
and your throat is filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you so heavily it's like heat,
tropical, moist,
thickening the air so it's heavy like water
more fit for gills than lungs.
When grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief.
How long can a body withstand this? you think,
and yet you hold life like a face between your palms,
a plain face, with no charming smile,
or twinkle in her eye,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you again.
to love life
to love it even when you have no stomach for it,
when everything you've held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands
and your throat is filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you so heavily it's like heat,
tropical, moist,
thickening the air so it's heavy like water
more fit for gills than lungs.
When grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief.
How long can a body withstand this? you think,
and yet you hold life like a face between your palms,
a plain face, with no charming smile,
or twinkle in her eye,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you again.
A good scare is worth more to a man than good advice.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
Sometimes people carry to such perfection the mask they have assumed that in due course they actually become the person they seem.
The farther behind I leave the past, the closer I am to forging my own character.
Some prices are just too high, no matter how much you may want the prize. The one thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart.
I wonder how many people never get the one they want, but end up with the one they're supposed to have.
You're all fools! Heroic fools. The brave are always the first to die.
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