Slam Poetry- A man talks about the women he fell in love with and lost. Video here, you must watch it.

This is the saddest video I’ve ever watched, yet it’s wonderful in it’s own little way.

One if the saddest things i have ever seen, damn

This made me cry this guy is amazing

i forgot to reblog at first cause i was crying so much

(Source: pizza-queen, via grrr-rrawr)


I carry it like a sack of 
fifty pound concrete slung over my 
shoulder, a folded up grocery list in 
the back pocket of my jeans, a 
newborn child. I keep 
it hidden, my proverbial skeleton in 
my proverbial closet but do 
you have any idea how hard 
it is to hide a skeleton when you
are waltzing with it in your 
living room? It leaves 
me tired but I have mastered 
the art of misdirection. I am a
regular stage magician, making
secrets disappear from view like so many
colored scarves in a sleeve, turning 
them into flying white doves with 
a puff of blue smoke. 

I carry it and I keep it hidden
because people like to scatter, roaches from 
a light bulb, pigeons from a running
child, at first glimpse— or worse,
try to lend a hand. I know tht 
your broad shoulders are more than
equipped to hold the weight, perhaps 
better than mine (they are so much 
petite), but everyone has their 
own luggage to haul around and 
I won’t ask for help with mine.
its awkward shape is hard for 
even your capable hands to 
hold and I am weary enough
most days without having to heave
a boulder off the ground. Besides
I fear it’d leave my shoulder blades 
with phantom limb syndrome. I 
would float, or fly, away without
it to hold me here.

I carry this carefully, a tray
full of water glasses, and I cloister 
it away and I carry it alone.
I don’t ask for someone to share 
the load, only that you are 
patient when I stumble, bow, break
under the yoke and maybe 
you will stop and wait for me 
to catch up if it slows me
or at the very least please, do 
not kick at my ribs when I’m down
or stand idle if I’m suffocating
under a sack of concrete when 
it lands on my chest.

Thoughts on Loving You

1. You are the way the September sun feels on
My face when it’s cool and the breeze dies
A little and I tilt my head up to soak it in.

2. When you speak your voice is a symphony, the 
Lilt of your voice in harmony with the passion of
Your words, underscored by a low, deep current 
Of sincerity that I find astonishing.

3. You fit me: puzzle pieces, lock and key, interlaced
Fingers, and a cozy sock on a cold foot. All the 
Metaphors anyone could think of and them some.
Your soul nestles against my heart and fills voids
I didn’t know were there, warms my ribs and 
Expands around my lungs as I breathe.

4.I will never be able to be anything but 
Woefully inadequate at describing it
And for a love so big, I am grateful. 

Nevada Smith: I Swear To God I Forgot Laughter


The chimney has what’s leftover of us holding hands
embossed on the rim in smoke
and I can’t help wishing I knew how to inhale
ash without choking on it the way
I choked on my syllables
last night. We never did see eye
to chin, more hand to rib,
more push and give,
more “keep me safe”

(via westernwon-deactivated20131209)

Something Clever...: December 6th, 2072: Which Is To Say


The day was as cold as it was beautiful

Which is to say, it was not much of either.

It was as exciting as any Wednesday

And I was as happy as I ever was with you

Which is to say

It was raining.

    This day was the first that your company felt

    Like a bed kept freezing

    No matter its occupants.

    Forevermore: still to this day


    The aftertaste
    of copper sat boldly
    on my tongue, as I
    clenched it between
    jagged teeth, to conceal
    the harsh words begging
    to be released from
    pursed lips.

    You never got this
    struggle. Instead,
    you dropped words
    like pennies in a wishing
    well, but none of them served
    you any kind…

    (via battlingsunlight-deactivated201)


    she cut her lip on
    the apology
    she practiced in
    her sleep (to the sheep)
    and hung her[note-to]self
    on the bedpost

    the fever residue
    street lamp neon
    reflex-shun, shine
    shh the spectrum is

    deliberate prism

    oh sure i support you
    with my styrofoam
    suspension, bridged
    oh how you gaped
    (over the gap that was your mouth)

    we are, we are
    put out

    (( x sting wish ))