stirringofbirds

here’s the truth I cannot speak

nose-to-nose in the trunk of your jeep

while sunrise birdsong lulls us to sleep.

i don’t think i yet love you truly deep

but still your love i want to keep…

aminatou:

“Why does every day involve a fight with an American?” 

STORY OF MY LIFE

I still laugh out loud every time. 

Ground Check

parti:

madsteb:

Don’t you dare

hold her delicate hand

her elegant heart

in your calloused fingers.

You are unworthy of

marring such a beautiful

bewitching

creature.

the mouth you found without my voice,

an unfamiliar pulse,

the new nose beside yours—

this Thing That Happened

burns all the rest.

one kiss strikes a match,

one more drops it into a box of Polaroids

i wanted to keep

but

film is so flammable

and 

there

they

go.

a cologne-soaked red T

carries a murmur across

impossible hours of

cattle-dotted pastures,

infinite gray tollways.

a reminder—

“I was here.”

I enter the room,

and for a heartbeat

you are.

a momentary miracle of scent

transports you from Missouri

to curl upon my bed and

watch me brush my teeth.

drive me down the night-washed roads

when stoplights blur into ribbons

sing me lines from indie songs

(your pitch will be forgiven)

find me in the winter grass

palms cupping faded sun

and as dark grows, with eyelids closed

let’s take to our high-tops and run

Sisters huddle safe as shiny girls scream

We cram down candy while they suffer onscreen

Sour Patch, Reese’s, Sprees from a Walgreens run

Feed nights still heavy with burning June sun

My lazy fingers pick apart C’s dark strands,

Her forehead of freckles beneath my hands.

Words from “The Great One” ignite her cell’s screen.

(He’s the love of her life, at the age of fourteen.)

Sassy as hell with glares that can slice,

She is the cool sister. I am just nice.

Sprawled on my lap, she reminds me she cares.

I take her warmth, her weight, her love while it’s there.

Ear against the pulse that fates us to be friends,

I cling to these nights before my last summer with her ends.

We two commas marking drunken speech

Curl beneath one borrowed robe.

Marvelling at this face within my reach

I trace wond’ring paths down its brave nose.

You’re not what I had sought to find

(another touch to haunt my sleep)

But aching want drowned out the mind’s

Insistence that one cannot keep

Six sleepless hours between clasped hands;

They fled as sun alighted sill.

Though they did thwart my wise, chaste plans

I mourn their swift departure still.

Don’t let spontaneous spooning be our end.

Call me, hold me, snore into my hair again.

raisemyhand:

erkerk:

This dude proposed to his girlfriend like this.

I love this. A lot.

BUT I would be mad that he ruined the book.

Take note, Future Husband.

This is how it’s done.