This sentence is for the people who like to stay up late and listen to music and wonder what they are doing and why life is the way it is and why your heart makes choices that your brain cannot comprehend and so after you’ve turned off your music and the lights and you’ve buried yourself in your covers your mind is abuzz and your heart is whispering things that make you believe in possibilities but doubt is louder and it’s yelling telling you that you are crazy and it’s too late and so you toss and turn back and forth between heart and doubt and three hours later you finally fall asleep only to wake up with your heart on the floor and doubt staring you in the face and when you leave to go shower or eat doubt says we’ll see you tonight.
She sharpened her heart and stuck me in the chest.
When she yanked it out, my heart was fastened to hers;
both beating, both dripping.
A poet doesn’t need the finest paper from the wisest tree
or the the sharpest pen with the thickest ink
or the most complex words from a Shakespearean dictionary
or the most complicated metaphors
all a poet needs is an honest heart and the courage to speak from that heart
knowing their words may be judged by the harshest minds
The ocean doesn’t tempt me, but the depth of your soul is something worth drowning in.
Light through the Trees
I regret wasting poetry on you.
via HalfGirl blog
is to lose touch with
a reality where
sleep comes easy,
either because of
happiness or heartbreak.