April 21, 2014

April 20, 2014



The place where a man’s neck collides with his collar bone is where I stare when I lick my lips. They need to feel your pulse lift under them. There are Mustangs running wild in that pulse and I want to feel them between my teeth. The way your belt is slung careless around your waist makes me think of the leather tie wrapped around the underbelly of a rodeo horse. Oh Cowboy, I think I’d win that eight second ride…

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Via Phoenix feathers and stardust


He is not Midas
You have always been golden

(Source: literaryheroine)

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As though touching her
might make him known to himself,

as though his hand moving
over her body might find who
he is, as though he lay inside her, a country

his hand’s traveling uncovered,
as though such a country arose
continually up out of her
to meet his hand’s setting forth and setting forth.

And the places on her body have no names.
And she is what’s immense about the night.
And their clothes on the floor are arranged
for forgetfulness.

Li-Young Lee, “Dwelling” (via lifeinpoetry)

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…the good stuff!!!!


…the good stuff!!!!

(Source: turningpoint2)

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Some shadows, I swear,
have no source, they aren’t cast
by anything in this world.
They move on the walls,
overlapping each other,
making love to each other…

and I watch them, wondering
if they might be you and me…
you and me come to pass
making a light so bright
our shadows reach us here,
reach us here and now.


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poetry Peregrine

That I would love you
was written in the cracks of bones
pulled from a fire
ten thousand years ago.
It’s been spoken of
in whispers and in rhymes
throughout all time.


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poetry Peregrine

They say it takes
21 days
To break a bad habit.
Today is day 22-
And you’re still
The first thing I think of
When I wake up in the morning;
The last thing on my mind
Before I go to sleep,
And the single most recurring thought
That haunts me in between.

Maybe 23 (via findingwordsforthoughts)

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