choobelette

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in class i kiss your neck and hope that you know what i mean. that im proud of you, and that i envy your mind and skill. i lash you constantly with my words, like my parents and their parents before me. i see your own father do it. but i can’t imagine a more perfect version of you. and i let my weary body rest for the first time since infancy.

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2am and it dawns on me how i will do this forever

clutching your back to my stomach

i love you more than life itself

such that we are immortal

sleeping in and saying good bye twice

“i’ll miss you” i say, and i do

counting down mere hours

i wonder if i’ve said it enough

if you can even begin to comprehend

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for you i have

#for you i would

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“[after a half-hearted suicide attempt at age 13] When Daddy comes in, he carries you to bed. Is there anything you feel like you could eat, Pokey? Anything at all? All you can imagine putting in your mouth is a cold plum, one with really tight skin on the outside but gum-shocking sweetness inside. And he and your mother discuss where he might find some this late in the season. Mother says hell I don’t know. Further north, I’d guess. The next morning, you wake up in your bed and sit up. Mother says, Pete, I think she’s up. He hollers in, You ready for breakfast, Pokey. Then he comes in grinning, still in his work clothes from the night before. He’s holding a farm bushel. The plums he empties onto the bed river toward you through folds in the quilt. If you stacked them up, they’d fill the deepest bin at the Piggly Wiggly. Damned if I didn’t get the urge to drive to Arkansas last night, he says. Your mother stands behind him saying he’s pure USDA crazy. Fort Smith, Arkansas. Found a roadside stand out there with a feller selling plums. And I says, Buddy, I got a little girl sick back in Texas. She’s got a hanker for plums and ain’t nothing else gonna do. It’s when you sink your teeth into the plum that you make a promise. The skin is still warm from riding in the sun in Daddy’s truck, and the nectar runs down your chin. And you snap out of it. Or are snapped out of it. Never again will you lay a hand against yourself, not so long as there are plums to eat and somebody-anybody-who gives enough of a damn to haul them to you. So long as you bear the least nibblet of love for any other creature in this dark world, though in love portions are never stingy. There are no smidgens or pinches, only rolling abundance. That’s how you acquire the resolution for survival that the coming years are about to demand. You don’t earn it. It’s given.”

— Mary Karr, “Cherry” (via lifeinpoetry)

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"i love..." playing cards from the deck i wrote on as a gift for my wedding annversary. 52 things i love about her!! these nine were her favorites <3

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Famous Prophets (Stars). Something personal cuz I’ve been going thru it

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Nabil S., "It was all songs: a letter from Gaza" from Nuseirat Refugee Camp & Khan Younis, trans. by his cousin Sarah Aziza and pub. Mizna [ID'd]

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i silently beg strangers in the drug store

“do you know what it feels like to die?”

they never turn

you asked me why god was ugly,

from the floor i thought it was obvious.

so i don’t respond; i sleep on the couch

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i said once i’d always know what to say

i don’t think i ever have

it’s the moments of anger and pain where i find my tongue in my stomach

i used to be happy in the silence

or maybe just in my unsoured thoughts

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the bliss in knowing yourself is almost outweighed by the damage caused by the ignorance of others

all around me—everything I know, see, hear, and touch—it all revolves around who i am and who i know i am meant to be…

and yet i remain hollow to the observer, my identity the last thing noticed unless i shout it from the rooftops, begging to be seen for who i truly am, and yet…

still. i am empty.

a nice girl, a kind young lady, easy on the eyes and better-looking when i smile, but to no one am i devoid of my femininity.

except to those who know me already.

to those who have seen the world the way i’ve seen.

and this, despite it all, is what makes the battle worth fighting, and what makes this song worth singing. my heart swells any time I hear those dearest to me call my name, and cheer for me as I face those not.

it’s them who light up my life without even trying.

it’s because of them I can live on as my authentic self.

and for them, as myself, I will live on.

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so. bad news. we have to keep going tomorrow. good news is that I’ll keep going with you

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Jennette McCurdy, I'm Glad My Mom Died

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how do i say “i miss you” in a way that will make your heart ache as much as mine does

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I'm really so fucking ill, illness makes people ill, I want to heal:

the silence of sleep is so fucking peaceful in times of motion;

& counting every single blessing I get, I am so grateful for all.

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in my dreams i make you lunch. sautéed chicken and veggies. you use two pumps of my favorite body wash and i don’t say anything, i smile and kiss your neck.

in reality my soap doesn’t have a pump. i heat you up frozen breakfast. even standing at the oven hurts. still i picture everyone jealous. soft mattresses and hard floors. how else could i go on ?

#learning to live with chronic pain or something #patience and peace #a lack of energy and an abundance of love #i remind myself i have an enternity to figure it out