“We kissed because we were starving for it.
We were so desperate with each other
that every time we went out,
at least one person would pull me
to the side
and ask if one of us was dying.
The answer, of course, was always yes.
We didn’t even know what to do
with our hands.
Sometimes, they’d wind up on my mouth, over your entire face,
trailing up and down your spine,
nails like rakes over angry red skin.
It couldn’t have been pretty,
and God, if you were watching,
you’re a pervert, but I’m also sorry.
We loved like we were trying to make up for lost time.
Every touch an apology,
an “I’m sorry I haven’t been with you everyday since elementary school.”
There was no way it wouldn’t end badly, so we stayed away from fire, because
we knew what it could do to
We spent an hour everyday in
separate parts of the apartment,
trying to remember how to measure
in feet and inches instead of
eyelashes and arms.
I could feel you in the kitchen.
I could feel how tense your muscles were, how tightly your jaw was clenched. Every length of you
was humming without me.
I knew you like the back of your hand. Every vein, every freckle.
That scar in-between your middle and ring finger from when you fell down
during a game of kickball.
It was all urgency. All fire-engine
We saw the smoke coming
from a mile away and kissed the treetops before
they coughed and writhed under the flames.
It was a beautiful forest.
Too beautiful to stay.
I will never forget the place
that I loved you,
even if it is raining ash.
I hear some of the trees
are still alive on the inside.”—desperate | Caitlyn Siehl (via halfasiangirlproblems)
if you’re sad, hug a tree. lay with the grass. talk to the moon. let the sun warm your skin. feel the dirt beneath your feet. appreciate the color of the sky, the smell of the flowers. make love to the earth.
“Here is what I know:
You drink your coffee black and we are afraid of each other.
Once you kissed my neck in front of your friends
and it made me very shy.
Once you kissed my stomach and I started crying.
I see the tender way you touch things and want to kiss your nose
but I keep my mouth to myself.
Your collarbones are craters big enough to fit my fist into.
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in months.
I was not good to the last person I loved so I punished my heart
(I let it break and bleed out then roughly sewed it back together)
It is hard to write poems when I only know how to fuck you.
I am always trying. I am thinking of Somedays. I am saying goodbye.
You asked why I never write anything honest so I am writing you this.”—(via sergeantinhaler)
“I let it go. It’s like swimming against the current. It exhausts you. After a while, whoever you are, you just have to let go, and the river brings you home.”—Joanne Harris, Five Quarters of the Orange (via pax-caelestis)
Whether you do drugs or not: Pot is a plant, mushrooms are a fungus among us, and peyote is a cactus. All natural, sprouting forth from Mother Earth-, they have a right to be here, just as much right as me or you.
The Earth doesn’t belong to us, we belong to earth… Freedom doesn’t exist if nature is illegal.