Tragedy suits your
Tear-rimmed eyelids
And scar tissue heart,
Just another witness
To the passing of ages,
Brush strokes to a mural
Of time and space,
Both perceivable and
Incomprehensible,
The dead space between
Was left just for us,
So together
We can still be alone,
And you can bask in
Suffering.
I'm Meaghan. I like poetry.
what a lovely insanity
“she has lips like wasabi
my eyes water every time we kiss
makes me wish we had a porch swing and a little home
makes me wish I could right wrongs instead of poems
the heart is a bullet that is terrified of blood
love is a windshield wiper in a hurricane
nothing is ever clear”
— Andrea Gibson, Wasabi (via zebrafairy)
(Source: foodforw0rms)
and I might not see you stretched out on the bed again
you’re on my mind
for the first time
in months
and I know
that if I sat down
and wrote about
you
the
re-examining of images
and moments
and the frustration of
trying to come up with
the right words
would
get rid of those inconvenient
thoughtsbut
I think I’ll
save it
for another
day
Some days
it only takes a gentle breeze
to remind me I’m alive
most days
it’s you
