"how far have you walked for men who’ve never held your feet in their laps?
how often have you bartered with bone, only to sell yourself short?
why do you find the unavailable so alluring?
where did it begin? what went wrong? and who made you feel so worthless?
if they wanted you, wouldn’t they have chosen you?
all this time, you were begging for love silently, thinking they couldn’t hear you, but they smelt it on you, you must have known that they could taste the desperate on your skin?
and what about the others that would do anything for you, why did you make them love you until you could not stand it?
how are you both of these women, both flighty and needful?
where did you learn this, to want what does not want you?
where did you learn this, to leave those that want to stay?"
"My heart slams against my ribs when I think of the slaughtered nights I spent all over the world waiting to feel your touch."
Sapete che cos’è l’amore?
Avete mai amato così profondamente da condannare voi stessi all’inferno per l’eternità?
Io l’ho fatto.
I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.
And I will not be afraid
of your scars.
I know sometimes
it’s still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.
-Clementine von Radics
"But the moment passes, and next day you meet, maybe, the same pensive and preoccupied look as before, the same pale face, the same meek and timid movements, and even signs of remorse, traces of a mortal anguish and regret for the fleeting distraction…. And you grieve that the momentary beauty has faded so soon never to return, that it flashed upon you so treacherously, so vainly, grieve because you had not even time to love her…."
"I would not consume
you, or ever
finish, you would still be there
surrounding me, complete
as the air."
“More and more,” from The Animals in that Countr
y (via lifeinpoetry
هي لا تحبك، يعجبها مجازك
أنت شاعرها و هذا كل ما في الأمر
She does not love you. Your metaphors thrill her,
you are her poet and that is all there is to it.
"Un breve instante se cruzaron
tu mirada y la mía.
Y supe de repente
—no sé si tú también—
que en un tiempo
sin años ni relojes,
tus ojos y mis ojos
se habían encontrado,
y esto de ahora
no era más que un eco,
la ola que regresa,
hasta la antigua orilla."