“Do not fall in love with people like me
we will take you to
museums and parks
and monuments
and kiss you in every beautiful
place so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting us
like blood in your mouth”
“ When you ask me to describe fear I say my mother
smelling vodka on my breath at seventeen. I say loss
is trauma stealing an entire month from my memories.
Superheroes always have broken hearts and tragic
back stories so maybe I’m doing OK. In my dreams we
are brave enough to leap tall buildings in a single
bound and see through walls and also never lie to
each other.
Promise me this: when you finally leave me, you’ll
get creative. Tell me I was more disappointing than
your childhood. Send me your bloody ear with a letter
saying “I’ve got to Gogh. You’re making me crazy.”
I am hard to love but know this much: you are the
only thing I like doing more than writing poems. ”
Superheroes, Clementine von Radics (via paradoxicalsentiments)
(Source: clementinevonradics)
“we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraphand death i think is no parenthesis
”
e.e. cummings (via framboisiers)
(Source: bleuveine)
Two months ago a couple in Canada got stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel
for seven hours, at the very zenith of its turning orbit, and a lightning storm
began as they were trapped there. Later, the man mentioned
to the reporters that he and the woman clung together for dear life
as the streaks…
““When you were sleeping on the sofa
I put my ear to your ear and listened
to the echo of your dreams.That is the ocean I want to dive in,
merge with the bright fish,
plankton and pirate ships.I walk up to people on the street that kind of look like you
and ask them the questions I would ask you.Can we sit on a rooftop and watch stars dissolve into smoke
rising from a chimney?
Can I swing like Tarzan in the jungle of your breathing?I don’t wish I was in your arms,
”
I just wish I was peddling a bicycle
toward your arms.”
Jeffrey McDaniel (via pigmenting)
I fell in love with a girl
who picked flowers instead
of arguments and had no
time for bad things
because she so carefully
curled herself
against them.
you were summer recklessness
but you always had these
two rules : stay with me
and dont become a ghost
again.
In Ancient Rome, the old women used to believe that after a night
of good love, it was possible for a couple to spontaneously combust,
leaving nothing but a pile of slightly smoking ashes behind, smelling
faintly of sweat mingled with olive oil for the relatives of the…
“ I want to kiss you.
Like big, fat kisses. Or angels. Or stars.
Or something. I don’t know.
Love poems never make sense to me.
Poets say things like “Your teeth are flowers.”
or “Your eyes are miracles.” But you
aren’t miracles. Or flowers. You
are some sweet boy with a good smile
and a shaky heart. Come kiss me.
I’m in love with the miracle of your body
beside my body. ”
Love Poems, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)
In January it was the atheist, who refused to pray before meals
and only cried God’s name when we were making love.
In February it was a chemist, trying to figure out our various levels
of insolubility to see if we were compatible for one another,
if we could dissolve in each other.
In March,…
