You know I love you
I know you love me
And forever we know
That we will be

I love everything about you
I can list them one-by-one
I absolutely adore you
I know you’re the one

I love the way you comfort me
No matter what mood you’re in
And I know that I will comfort you
Even when my…


This is a poem for the girl sitting alone on a bus
that took her from home to Chicago
and back.
She let everyone else on before she found her seat.
She was a gentlemen in a world
where ladies can be men
and can be beautiful
at the same time.

This is for the sad people
who hate waking up on…

(Source: maryyannneeee)


Today as the blueness
coldness of these hard peaks surrounds me, I
can only think that

you are the only mountain
range that I would like
to trace (from
the hem

where your hairline meets your
forehead down off the cliffs
your nose and

the plateau your neck makes

(Source: lagnes)


(november eleventh: tenth avenue)

I looked at you

(all mixed
up) (squared
up against the dirty chain link
fence), laughing. I looked at you:
it was some Tuesday—he came over and—
I’m sorry—
that’s all I know—

and your deadened emerald
eyes bored holes

into my cold cheekbones
and the fuck…

(Source: lagnes)


Nothing matters here

Not the losing of my sanity

Nor the breaking of calcium enriched bones

Not the slashes or scars of my wrists

Nor the pills that I take to cure myself

Not the days I went without eating

Nor the six years of alienation from my mother

I’m still here

I’m still alive

That’s something to be proud of

(Source: nickdrone)


I prefer the darkness to the likeness of your skin

Love once cherished, now relished because of emptiness

Finger nails scratching exima, flaking away my body

To an unkind wind

A cold that draws the breath from my now vacant lungs

Into smoke that travels between our lips like water

You spit from the fosset after we brushed our teeth

My spirit, body; Deteriorating, lifelessly under the

Fucking sun

(Source: nickdrone)


I loved you last night
I woke up

to a landscape: strange
dead and barren
unforgiving, forbidden
(as if
at some point on the thread of
cloudy dreams I wander down sleep
after sleep I
should have died)

I woke up numb like
winter but I know (to my
core) I loved you last

(Source: lagnes)


and the hollows cradling my eyes
(through wake
and sleep hugging them tight)
are O’s
are nuclei
of questions posed

and within these deepening ever-
darkening curves
(my skin like
a bruised pit of quicksand), my
eyes open—my
eyes close
—on my constantly grinding bones

(Source: lagnes)


You are the writing on
the inside
of my ribs I didn’t know
I had

You wear
the sun on your head like
a crown—You keep
the thunder-
in your
lungs like creatures

in a zoo
You are the long woven strings of
adjectives I wrap around my
to warm me

when the air
is brisk. You
are all of this 

(Source: lagnes)


what amazes me is my fingerprints
and the still-

thereness of them
(after feeling
everything I’ve ever
I am amazed that the grooves

do not lose
their shape like wax that melts
pooling around a

that they do not
blur or
smooth after all
the things i have told them
to touch (because my brain

is blind and
the world
is its living, breathing

(Source: lagnes)