“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.”—Louise Erdrich (via purplebuddhaproject)
I just want the love that I learned about when I whispered to the roses and watched them blush while they shook their petals and spoke about the kind of people who would pluck them - because goddamn imagine the love in us weak-fingered starlovers who let ourselves bleed on beach thorns just so we can hand over a slightly wilted bloom to the person we adore
imagine a love like that, i said to him. imagine a love like the kind i’m always writing about, always finding in the pages of books, always seeing in the way city streets love nature enough they force flowers through every crack they can. imagine a love like how the night sky loves the snow so much that up in the arctic it always dances, imagine a love like how bumble bees love flowers and their queens, imagine a love that other people will think looks like poetry. imagine a love like that.
i heard of a man who met a girl and from that day on was writing her letters because he knew from that moment she would one day be his everything and he sometimes wrote only a sentence sometimes a hundred can you just imagine the kind of force that guides a pen through all that writing can you imagine the kind of love soaking into that paper i mean can you imagine the quick ones that just say “it’s june third and i love you” and the long ones that wax lyrical on the soft arch of her eyebrows can you imagine the torn notebook sheets with doodles in the margins where he penned her sonnets during math can you imagine the starbucks receipts where the back just says “today i am running on coffee because i love talking to you more than i love sleep” can you imagine him taping pictures and ribbons and pieces of grass as little reminders: here is where we kissed for the first time, you used to wear this around your wrist, this grass was the greenest i’d ever seen and we had a picnic in a field that looked like it was out of a movie - i mean can you imagine the love can you feel it
i want a love like that i want a love that hurts to look at and hurts to touch and hurts to hold in my chest
but just looking at you sets me on fire and i’d rather watch how the light crosses your face than really pay attention to the sunset and i’ve been to art museums but nothing struck me as beautiful as the way you look first thing in the morning when you wake up and roll over and give me that half-smile of sleepy contentment and i’ve studied science for years but i haven’t found an explanation on how it’s possible every day my love self-replicates and i’ve been a poet for only about two years now but good lord i think i can imagine a love that feels like a summer storm because i’ve written literally thousands of poems and they’re all just your name respun and i finally realized i’ve been writing to you since the day we met
and i know i know i know
i’ve found a love like that.
”—A rose kind of love, a fight-through-the-thicket-for-you kind of love, a kind of love that would make poets blush. A kind of love where just being with you is enough. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
late spring and musk
filmed mornings — drugged, we hover
by water coolers and tremble.
you’re all buzzing lips and honeyed
eyes, swollen tongue and shaking
hands. you ask me a question
and i buckle, thinking God —
it’s too early to be this wanting.
it’s too early to eat each other alive,
all bare wrists and innocent skin.
you tug your sleeve and i catch you
staring at my ankle, shivering
because it’s broad daylight and
“it’s eight o’clock and it’s tuesday”, hafsa atique