May 2011
20 posts
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my accidental poet
I fell in love with your words before I fell in love with you.
bitter like glass, I forget that they’re
sharp because they’re beautiful
I would try and find my stare in their reflection
but I can hear them echo better with my eyes closed.
Even now,
as you change like leaves
and stay brown and holy and warm with sun
your words sustain me
keep me green
keep me ripe
keep us pressed between those...
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help me
I’m the victim of these late night thoughts that don’t ring true come morning.
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OMGHARRYPOTTERWINYAY:D →
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its both a gorgeous and a melancholy moment
when you find something you’d both lost and forgotten about.
It’s amusing when it happens with objects; it’s self-actuating when it happens with people.
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ever have a really great thought, write it down,...
Yeah.
I am forever perturbed.
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Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I...
– Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
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mornings
Somedays I wake up still dreaming.
stoplight stars burn white and car headlights shiver blue
and you look like rain
and taste like red
and smell like day old coffee.
Somedays I fall asleep still waking.
ghost town sheets purr backwards and pillow sleeves cry morning
and I look like X’s
and taste lke O’s
and play ticktacktoe all alone.
good writing is unique in that you can feel it...
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as much as my taste in music grows and changes and...
I’ll always have a soft, sentimental spot for Pink Floyd’s “Wish you were here.”
wildlydelicate asked: define ugly beauty.