All ready to
But you can never reach the
Your soul is
You are an
Chained to the
i'm going to need you to breathe for us.don't fall in love with me
because i don't do things the way your exes do.
i'm not going to take you to some fancy restaurant
with a suit and tie and valet to park the car
i'll take you to a library instead
we'll go shopping together
and try on some other people's grandparent's clothes
we'll get new names and fake shitty accents for each reflection
i'll convince you to buy an ugly jacket
by telling you your face is so damn pretty
no one's going to look once at that color blocked windbreaker
you'll wear it in the car,
but fidget uncomfortably when we stop
so we'll switch coats outside the art museum
you'll take my picture next to some abstract piano sculpture
constructed of old park benches
and tell me that i'm brave,
but i'm just a coward who likes to make you laugh.
i care too much about what people think
but not when i'm with you
because those strangers are just echoes of your shadow.
we'll go into the bell tower of that catholic church by the harbo
i was freezing in an art museum.i met a boy with heterochromia;
one eye was green and the other was blue.
i was watching him from across the room and he was staring right back,
his eyes peeled away my skin
and turned my soul purple.
i could feel the color fading as he walked away
and when you found me my soul was lilac, and you thought it was bruised.
i never told you about the stranger i fell in love with
for fifteen minutes
i remember you from last night.you remind me of a swimming pool;
deep and cool.
i'm sorry, sweetheart
i can swim,
but i don't like to.
there's rain on the window.hands like yours could choke the sea
and paint clouds in the sky.
hands like yours could tousle the hair of god,
but you'd rather touch my face
during high school: junior year.skyler
i cry every time i realize that i had to say "i'm sorry"
more often than "i love you";
i hope you knew i meant both.
we were in pre-cal and i was going through your journal
while you made paper flowers to put in my hair.
we both failed the test from last week,
but those returned papers just became more roses.
your beret was on the floor, near my foot, and i apologized fifteen and a half times
for accidentally stepping on it;
you put tape over my mouth to shut me up.
you always talked about art museums,
even more than me.
your favorite painting is in new york,
and mine is in brussels.
you wanted to lay in swirling blue wind,
and i wanted to kiss marat.
i remember you would always get mad at me
for not liking da vinci very much.
he was a revolution, as far as you were concerned,
and in that battle you were both fighting against me;
i didn't care that he wasn't even your favorite,
i just loved the passion that burned your crystal eyes.
do you remember sitting in the m
during high school: sophomore year.mason
i was 7 when i met you,
but it wasn't until i was 14 that you noticed me;
i'm sure you don't remember either.
it was summer and i wanted to forget tenth grade
before it even started; you couldn't wait for college
we bother knew august would kill us,
so neither you nor i bothered to love.
you were my only balanced relationship,
because we were both just weekend nights.
i hear you married some pretty blonde cheerleader last spring;
i hear she's fucking your brother.
you held your sleeve to my nose to catch the blood
and offered to get ice for my eye
after 1/4 of the football team finished beating me up
i didn't bother to wish you'd met me on a better day,
because i didn't have those.
our first date was to a laundromat
because we laid in the rain at lunch
and skipped fourth and fifth periods to go downtown
and dry our clothes; we stood in our underwear and talked to the washing machines.
you ate pretzels from the vending machine,
during high school: freshman year.oliver
i remember i was 14,
or at least that's what the cake said three and a half months before;
i don't recollect ever feeling so young.
it was my first year of high school and your last;
i guess you wanted to make it count
and i wanted to be loved.
i always say you had me when you started talking about films,
but the bones in your hands caught me first
as you caught the books that fell from my locker.
the theatre was old, and barely in use;
someone said it used to be a propeller factory
back during word war two.
paper was peeling from the walls, draping over drywall and asbestos
like the curtains by the screen.
they were showing "shock theatre", and you couldn't stop talking about how the images hypnotized you;
that spark in your eyes hypnotized me
into thinking we'd last.
we left your car parallel on the side of main street,
and i led you to a cemetery outside of town;
you didn't laugh when i said i wanted you to meet my friends,
and i thought that made you special.
A DefinitionWords that mean the same as ‘gay’:
Happy, bright, joyful.
Queer and homosexual.
Words that do not mean the same as ‘gay’:
Weak, stupid, lame.
Evil, abomination, shame.
You got that?
Is not an insult.
NadirHis shotgun smile
says it all -
smell of rabbits mating
in the basement
keeps him up at night
and he likes
his neighbor's daughter
as she stands on tip-toe
in the back yard,
peering through his window
or drowning kittens in the river.
He keeps a razor
in his bedroom,
siphons after-shave through
a loaf of bread
and calls it magic,
remembering how his teacher
found him naked,
shoved into a closet
and how she put
marbles in his mouth
to keep him from speaking.
His mother only laughed
and told him to wash
his clothes out
in the bathtub
and not drip water
on her carpet.
Don't leave a witness
his best friend said.
Pictures have ears
and walls can feel
when God has seen your secrets.
είναι μια σιωπηλή διαδικασά αλλαγής
που αντιλαμβανόμαστε εκ του αποτελέσματος.
Δεν Μπορεί Να Είναι Ο Στοχος.