electric heart

electric heart

I have a million things to talk to you about. A million things we have to talk about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.
- Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via bookmania)

02.03

they hugged.
it was a pretty good hug,
I guess.
if there is such a thing
as a hug
so good
it did not
wish it was
a kiss.

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01.24

my body
is a rattle of splintered bones
in the hands
of a tambourine man.

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01.06

his hands. the dj.
her body. the turntable.
his tongue. the needle.

her ‘ooh.’ the record skipping.
his ‘mmm.’ the bass droppin’ low.

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finishing the bottle, a checklist.

cheers (!) :

__ to all the places we went without ‘going there’
__ to riding the carousel of pink elephants in the room
__ to eyeball-head nod conversation
__ to the intimacy of our near-touch
__ to embarrassed kisses on the forehead goodnight
__ to things will never be the same again
__ to i
__ and love
__ and you
__ to only ever singing it out loud
__ to it felt so real to me
__ to a place that no longer exists
__ to drinking to forget
__ to whiskey straight
__ to whiskey shivers
__ to sleeping to see you in my dreams
__ to not being able to recall the length of your eyelashes
__ to someone i once knew
__ to two ships passing in the night
__ to the depths we’ll never know

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You’re either the Artist or the muse. Each comes with its own set of complications; each with its own unwavering power.

12.06

Home

the first boy will tell you
i love
like the child of a feather and a gust of wind
like a walking eagle
like a mouse pirouetting with the poise of an elephant

the second
will say
i love
like i can’t remember how
like i can’t ask for more
like i don’t want more

the third
thinks
i love
like a diplomatic nation

the third wasn’t really the third

the fourth (the real third)
will have nothing to say
he does not know how i love
because
i love

like my heart is an elephant graveyard
like love is an elephant in the room
like it only seeks me out once it realizes it is dying

the fifth
will pointedly proclaim
i love
like i am waiting for the stop sign to turn green
like i am playing cards face up for practice

the sixth
knows too well
i love
like the scars from the sharp edges of four are still fresh
like i have been spending my sleeps shadowboxing the ghost of the four merely trying to take a picture of our shadows holding hands
like i can’t remember how to forget

six was a man of understanding

unfortunately
the seventh
could not comprehend
how
i love
like i am three drinks in and eager to leave
like there’s a timer running
like hot potato
like shark week

bringing me to
the eighth boy

when he asks me
how i love
i will tell him
the truth:

i love like everything will be lost someday
like my love is a glass house
and my heart a throwing stone.

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