Being a driver is largely about waiting and parking

Loving someone and making a life with them are separate spheres, they have nothing to do with each other. When you find someone where there is both, that’s when you win. But they’re not contingent qualities.

– Krista, autostraddle.com

There’s more than enough room for a sad song or two. – 7 Years In the Making, Hayley Williams

maybe this would help, or maybe make it worse

I haven’t said much and I’m still feeling lost. I don’t know what we’re going to do when she gets back.



In the photos, I first noticed your smile
the gentle curve of a sickle moon,
the edge of a closed shell
making me wonder what secrets 
you could be keeping behind your lips
dreaming eyes in a faraway gaze,
hair drifting around your face, so soft
I could almost feel the wind in that field. 

In the restaurant, I noticed your hands 
Long, slender fingers 
a quiet strength 

I thought of them dancing over piano keys,
tapping on your computer, 
palms down on a seawall, 
cupping a cherry blossom, 
playing ballads across my spine 

somewhere between friendship and love
our hearts touched

backing off, I trip over the little we’ve built,
scatter apologies in my wake
as uselessly pretty as petals 
already dying before they hit the ground 

somewhere between fear and hope, our decisions hang suspended 

a change of scenery for you
maybe a change of perspective for me
a fortnight has never moved so slow. 
I worry, but I don’t think I’ll tell you.
What use would it be?
you are already there. 

your dream is a draught that will snatch you from me. – L. Barcia, Plastic Flowers

well, I could want you if only for the way 
your neck bends as you unlock your door,
your soft drawl, your open laugh,
the real smile that never seems to make it
into photographs of you 

could you want me just for my hands,
my mouth, my mind
could you want my wanting? 

Oh but I hate living in digits, in pixels
in the crackle of a late-night call 
I dream of the day-to-day, the mundane
with someone, the gray world is washed in color 
everything is the same, and not the same at all. 

I love you with a selfish love
I love you with a fearful love 
I love you with a love I am afraid to set free 
I love you – if only I could cut these words loose
of all the others that hold them down, 
the caveats that follow 

In our words, we’re still stilted 
nothing in our short history
has predicted any thing lasting 

so how can I be so broken
at the thought of never kissing you again? 
how am I on my knees so soon, so suddenly? 

In a way that will never make sense,
I wished for every night to go on and on
was I already so sure that you would not want me in the morning? 

I live in the darkness,
you live in the light 
maybe nothing grows here
but nothing ever burns, either 

somewhere in the twilight,
our fingers touched

In the only place we could be together 


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