"I love you,” I said.
She thought about it. “No,” she said at last, “I don’t like it.”
“Why not?” I said.
“It’s as though you were pointing a gun at my head,” she said. “It’s just a way of getting somebody to say something they probably don’t mean. What else can I say, or anybody say, but ‘I love you, too’?" — Kurt Vonnegut (via skin-n-bones)
(Source: commovente, via leverdujour)
Out east beyond the city it’s quiet, and the front porch
still reminds me of your hand on my shoulder.
In the living room, Johnny Cash is singing on the radio
about the beer he had for breakfast.
The beer I had for breakfast was Tennessee whiskey.
The sun is squinting at my bad decisions.
I’m trying to dry out, but I’m worried my hands
will shake too hard to write.
I’m worried I will earthquake from my body.
I wonder what you’d think if you saw me now.
If you read this, I’m doing just fine.
I’m still a sheep in wolf’s clothing.
I’m still struggling with all the old questions.
I’m still trying to love everything put in front of me to love.
I’d still give anything to hear you call me Darlin’.
If you read this, and you’re thinking of me,
know I’m thinking of you too.
" — The Beer I Had For Breakfast.Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)
"I wrote too many poems in a language
I did not yet know how to speak,
but I know now it doesn’t matter
how well I say grace, if I am sitting at a table
where I am offering no bread to eat.
So this is my wheat field.
You can every acre, love." — Andrea Gibson (via clementinevonradics)
Your daughter’s face is a small riot,
her hands are a civil war,
a refugee camp behind each ear
a body littered with ugly things.
doesn’t she wear
the world well?
" — Warsan Shire, from ‘Ugly’ (via mirroir)
(Source: vonberno, via mirroir)
"It was getting dark as I came down the hill, swirls of snow sticking to my face. I thought about the dog and was suddenly very sad; sad for her death, for my death, for all the inevitable dying that comes with change. There’s no choice that doesn’t mean a loss. But the dog was buried in the clean earth, and fears and dangerous thoughts and the shadows I had put away for a more convenient time. I could not put them away forever, there is always a day of reckoning. But not all dark places need light, I have to remember that." — Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit (via sketchofthepast)
"Don’t google your name. Ever.
Don’t “search” for yourself
on anything that glows in the dark.
Don’t let your beauty
be something anyone can turn off.
Don’t edit your ugly out of your bio.
Let your light come from the fire.
Let your pain be the spark,
but not the timber.
Remember, you didn’t come here
to write your heart out.
You came to write it in." — Andrea Gibson (via commovente)