a piece of.
nothing is more poignant than the ache of the moments after. “i don’t make the rules,” i imagine you’d say, and i’d wish that you did. i could have photographed you in that moment: dreaded hair back, sitting on the stairs. the way you looked at me when i walked towards you, the semi-politeness that followed, something unmistakable in your eyes. i could have followed you then, shared a...
sometimes i manage to forget the curve of your shoulders, the taste of your skin on mine, the lulling ache of you inside of me —but they don’t make greeting cards for this. the simple act of forgetting, even if just for one hungry second of this relentless pulse, i ride it like a beggar, hungry for salt and sweet, sweet denial. you never understood what it was like to sit in a dangerous...
She asked if I wanted to play a Bond girl. I said, ‘No, I’m not...– Angelina Jolie
The Uses of Sorrow (In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once...– Mary Oliver