graevbaby:

my room might be dark and gloomy at least i have claire’s face on it
nicainmhire:

Uptown Girls (2003)
exotic-wonderland:

exotic-wonderland

more fabulous posts here x

She kissed me and I said that
there was nothing I craved more than
to be born out of her mouth
every time she parted her lips

I call her poetry, she calls me with her eyes.
they are draped with a bedroom gloss
and hold me like tar
but black is all her opposite

her skin, sun-kissed manila curtains,
lace dancing out against the breeze of
a cracked window and
her skin,
the edge of a wine glass, painted by a
tall fluorescent kitchen light.

She kissed me and it was morning and I told her that
my skin was all in theory until she kissed me,
I am a marvel and she my creator,
and so she kissed me and it was night.

I heard the genius next door playing his mathematics
like a church organ
he was a storybook human calculator but she was
more like God
and the genius, he was an atheist
his bitterness smelled like sulfur and
looked a lot like jealousy and
he invited us over to view the stars
and so it was night and she kissed me,
his brain almost dripped out of his ears
and I wanted to ask him what the boiling point was
for
madness that was never cured with a love like mine,
I wanted to ask if he ever felt anything as beautiful as the universe
if he had ever found the summary of it all
in one person
and the way her eyes watched his hands
with curiosity and how her eyes
in the morning
uncurled the tongue of a mute and spoke
“I love you”
but I could not ask him a question,
because I could only kiss her
and in between each kiss, I only asked the question of
when she would kiss me again
and wondered if there was an interval on which
she gave me kisses
and if he knew the formula
but if I knew
that they were predictable
I would go mad in the intervals
and I would play those mathematics like a church organ,
my jealousy would smell like sulfur and
I would curse the air that
kissed her lips always

it was morning and she kissed me,
her eyes told me they loved me and
then did her mouth
and when she opened it to speak,
I fell out again, newborn
wrapped in the blankets and her
and I am made this way again
every time she kisses me


“she kissed me”, Angel Rosen (poeticus)

(via bettersurroundings)


☀ ☁