when my pen rests above the stretch of your shoulder, i will know why...– her. 2009. excerpt from an untitled poem. in progress…
Never let go of that fiery sadness called desire.– Patti Smith (via rainysanctuary) (via tobia)
something like that.
her body never rests between these four walls long enough to call her present always headed one way or another intent on eluding my grasp unsure if she’s ready to be held i hesitate to tell her that i am grateful to not be the one running hiding stealing pieces of lovers along the way gracefully moving toward the promise of something grander more exciting less ethereal. if she would have...
Above all, try always to be able to feel deeply any injustice committed against...– Che Guevara (via jaeboogie)
love is never any better than the lover. wicked people love wickedly, violent...– the bluest eye, toni morrison
haiku::on beauty II
the sunset rivals the shadow of your smile but seldom steals my heart (c) her. 
some trees bend along the borders of the unknown. more fearless than weak. (c) her. 
the distance between us swallows me like oceans never meant to swim (c) her. 
we don’t fear darkness of shadows. just the mourning of a prior light. (c) her. 
[journal] 3.22.09 7:57 PM
i love that i have no ill feelings toward her. i love that i am not trying to erase her or pretend it didn’t happen. i love that i still feel fortunate to have been in love with her…to have shared that space with her. i think we’ll be alright in the end. but you never know when the end is really here.