8 notes • 8:07 PM

and then all of a sudden my martini glass was empty AGAIN

in love, yada yada

because text posts are what’s hot these days, read a draft of a poem:

if i were a musician this might be a love song
adequate or eloquent words for you aren’t even close to the tip of my tongue
but the imprints of your hands are still on my back from where
you held onto me like the world was trying to tear you away
like your fingers could hold onto the tendrils my heart
your palms could keep it inside and away from the rain and wind
your fingernails could scratch away the scars
it is our cravings that turn us inside out
desiring sugar sweet sensations just under our skin
hiding underneath the blankets and telling each other stories of incidents long gone
far away now but the hurt is still there
buried because
because … because
i want to hear all the thirty two eskimo words for love to try to comprehend
this miracle of feeling
it came towards me too soon and too strong
enveloped me when i wasn’t quite ready to let go of my loneliness
exposed me when i was too afraid to come out from under my covers
and out of my disguise
left me naked and cliche in the hazardous waste of time aisle of my self esteem
where insecurities are sold ninety nine cents each
until that moment with you
at the wheel and me beside you with one finger in your pocket
watching the headlights illuminate the pavement ahead
the miracle lassoed for a second: held in place
anchored by your steady hands
the tips of your fingers to your knuckles
the life line to the laugh lines
waiting to bloom at the corners of your eyes
each one a memory

but i mean this love isn’t silly but it also really is.  it’s gross and cheesy and i could write stupid sonnets about how much i love you and i’d mean all of them, every single one.  but it’s also a cave of warmth and rainfall sounds.  it’s sunlight shining through a dusty window and it’s familiar piano chords and the feeling of just having taken a drink of something hard, like whiskey or gin, and the fire is running down your throat until it stops at your stomach and it just sits there. it’s running through town until you can’t run anymore and adrenaline makes the coughing from running too much fine.  just fine.

nighty night tumblr

just had two excellent conversations that made my night an absolute bundle of joy, and that’s not even sarcasm.

i apologize for the incessant whining but… i think i have an excuse this time

i’ll try to shut up about unrequited love and all that bullshit next time (first thing in the morning when i wake up)


no matter what happens now or in the future, it was all worth it.