okay ok

"How to love your depressed lover.
Last night I thought I kissed the loneliness from out your belly button. I thought I did, but later you sat up, all bones and restless hands, and told me there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo. I never know what to say to these things. “It’s okay.” “Come back to bed.” “Please don’t go away again.” Sometimes you are gone for days at a time and it is all I can do not to call the police, file a missing person’s report, even though you are right there, still sleeping next to me in bed. But your eyes are like an empty house in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders. Except in this case I am the intruder and you are already locked up so tight that no one could possibly jimmy their way in. Last night I thought I gave you a reason not to be so sad when I held your body like a high note and we both trembled from the effort.
Some people, though, are sad against all reason, all sensibility, all love. I know better now. I know what to say to the things you admit to me in the dark, all bones and restless hands. “It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.” “Please come back to me again."
— 9 hours ago with 123646 notes
"I’ve been making a list of the things they don’t teach you at school. They don’t teach you how to love somebody. They don’t teach you how to be famous. They don’t teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don’t teach you how to walk away from someone you don’t love any longer. They don’t teach you how to know what’s going on in someone else’s mind. They don’t teach you what to say to someone who’s dying. They don’t teach you anything worth knowing."
Neil Gaiman (via observando)

(via catunicornmeat)

— 9 hours ago with 3351 notes
"Some people will never “get you.” Do not spend eternity asking why. People will see you differently, just cherish those who lift your soul."
Dodinsky (via psych-facts)

(via catunicornmeat)

— 9 hours ago with 9198 notes
"

when she asked why I slept with him
I laughed and said because I felt like it
but the truth is
that night I was sleeping in my bed,
safe and sound
when I woke to hot breath on my neck.
apparently sleeping with your door unlocked
is asking for it.
I don’t want to admit that truth,
I don’t want to write that poem,
but I don’t want to keep reliving it either.
I write for reasons like this.

when he asked why I write poems
we were drinking unfiltered beer outside my house.
I heard the chime on his phone from his girlfriend
and the dim of the screen when he pushed “ignore”.
I write for reasons like this.

when she asks why I always have flowers by my doorstep
I tell her that the flowers are my white flag
for when he wants to come home.
I haven’t had his number in almost two years
but I keep sending “I hope you are well”
into the stars when I exhale my cigarette.
I write for reasons like this.

when they ask why I don’t write about pure love and candy
I ask why they don’t visit their grandmothers more,
put more in the offering plate at church,
call their father just to say goodnight.
there are some things we should do
but just don’t.

there are some things we wish we could change
but just can’t.
I write for reasons like this.

"
when they ask why I’m such a mystery..I write for reasons like this/d.a.h (via whisperingbones)

(via catunicornmeat)

— 9 hours ago with 899 notes