It is not love you are missing,
it is yourself — tall, slender, young,
driving your old grey car
to the lake, singing those songs
which you hear now
and shiver — they bring you
back to your own hair
blowing, your own hands on the wheel,
legs taut, stomach empty — yourself,
hungry as you were then
moving in and out of the trees, the lake
cold at night. During the day it glittered
when you lay on the raft hearing
the children at the day camp splash,
calling, “Marco! Polo,” like yourself
even younger, playing with your brother
before you could swim or run
so fast, or go to the lake and lie
waiting, you thought, for love
after work, perhaps not waiting
at all, unless for this moment,
much later — remembering
the raft, the car, the children
at the day camp, yourself
with your brother, yourself on the raft.
It is not love you are missing,
Every night I sleep on alternate
sides of the bed, as if to duplicate
sleeping with you. If
I’m fast enough, I’m the warmth
of my own body beside me, reach
out and touch myself. Breach
the blue of my bones, breathe in my own ear.
You left me. Lying here,
I left you to be with me.
Someone asks if your body
was worth trading for mine.
My sin was always pride.
Did you want a man that sleeps
with himself to keep
the bed warm? I need you like the earth
needed the flood after dearth.
helloooo summer! (inspo: my little pony x james from team rocket)
Li Wei by Vanessa Jackman
Sometimes all you need is a solid documentary (tho that said, you’d be hard pressed to play “spot the person of color” in this one…)
to the 53 bones of one foot, the four dimensions of breathing,
to pine, redwood, sworn-fern, peppermint,
to hyacinth and bluebell lily,
to the train conductor’s donkey on a rope,
to smells of lemons, a boy pissing splendidly against the trees.
Bless each thing on earth until it sickens,
until each ungovernable heart admits: “I confused myself
and yet I loved—and what I loved
I forgot, what I forgot brought glory to my travels,
to you I traveled as close as I dared, Lord.”
Why Trust Is Worth It (by zefrank1)
"I think of the way that my body sits on a surface that’s new to me, unknown, and how my muscles remain tight, anticipating anything, and I’m constantly aware of that surface. Over time, with familiarity, I can relax and start to lean back. For many of us that initial tension exists so much of the time. We expend so much energy watching and calculating, trying to predict, reading signals in people, ready for anything to change suddenly. Preparing to be disappointed. So much energy spent. We talk about trust as something you build, as if it’s a structure or a thing, but in that building there seems to be something about letting go. What it affords us is a luxury: it allows us to stop thinking, to stop worrying that someone won’t catch us if we fall, to stop constantly scanning for inconsistencies, to stop wondering how other people act when they’re not in our presence. It allows us to relax a part of our minds so we can focus on what’s in front of us. And that’s why it’s such a tragedy when it’s broken. A betrayal can make you think of all the other betrayals that are waiting for you, things that you haven’t thought of, and people you rely on. And you can feel yourself tightening up, bracing." (h/t seasquared)