I want the quick fix radical transformation makeover montage In lieu of the miracle question (if I woke tomorrow and) let's cut to the miracle But here I am breathing slowly water wearing away stone
Coincidence
You spit on the street as we pass maybe you need to do that anyway have some bad taste in your mouth and it is just coincidence or maybe you are not brave enough to tell me to go home
Some Days
Some days I am too tired to listen to stories, yours or mine I am disconnection navigating this dreamscape more observer than actor These words are not mine breath is not mine there must be a person to have me and mine But this is only wind moving dry leaves
Ntozake
i found god in myself & i loved her/I loved her fiercely
Ntozake Shange
She is right there just where you ae afraid she might be and more than you hoped which is what really blows it all apart: it is too much to know that you could be loved, loved, loved like that
Half
A thousand half-loves must be forsaken to take one whole heart home.
Rumi
I want to ask if you know what it is to love half-hearted but who among us doesn't, really? See we love this way more often than not and in thirds and quarters, too We think we are clever to guard ourselves like this but it is our own hearts cheated it is not only your half love for me I must decline but my own fractured ways of loving
wai guo ren
I am an object of curiosity your eyes brighten at the sight of my pale hair and eyes strange accent odd mannerisms I smile and say women dou shi Meiguo ren we are both Americans
Smoke
I would, absolutely, smoke if it wouldn't kill me Roll out of bed and scratch that match Revel in the sweet sizzle as I light the world up Inhale deeper than my lungs pause, savor, exhale Yes, I would absolutely smoke if it wouldn't kill me
Laojialess
I want to go home now can you tell me where that is?
Ash
Today I touched your life with gloved hands your story in a few hundred pages your heartbreaks and handguns the worlds you hoped to build for yourself in that flurry of receipts and licenses your father's obituary the picture posed with your mom I imagined that day you signed over your son to someone else's care and every hour you bent over another child's hands as you taught him to play with bow and strings In the end this is each of us wrapped in paper ash, and loose change
Blush
The next time we pass in hallway or lift I might have to smile and stifle a blush School was long ago but I thrill at the sight of you here in a forest of towers delighted to glimpse a silver fox