such tender bones

I want to walk into the heart of you and never walk back out.

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The things I write about you are not pretty.

For example: You are the ugly way I feel about Los Angeles, mouth a smear like sunset singed with citrus burns. Hollywood hill is a smashed pomegranate against your scorched teeth. All the stars walk the red carpet while I write sonnets to your mouth. It’s been too long since the last time we spoke, I’ve forgotten what everyone else looks like — your hands are trees made of smog, and they have taken root in my lungs. I wish this city would burn to the ground.

For example: The last time I fell in love, I broke all the dishes in the kitchen and bled out on the floor. You were not good for me. You held the bandaids, but I told you to put them back in the drawer. I loved being so broken for you — your heart was a hospital without the healing. My parents never taught me that being loved for your wounds was wrong.

For example: Tonight, I am falling asleep without you. I’ve had bad dreams ever since we met, things about dark-haired women that die because they never ran fast enough. I never ran fast enough. I’m still learning what it’s like not to find your face etched into the wood of my floorboards, and I’m failing miserably. You were not good for me.

For example: You were not good for me. You were California burning, and my lungs couldn’t take it. You were not good for me. You were a broken spine I couldn’t set; I was a scab you always picked. You were not good for me.

For example: Get out of my poetry, nobody wants to read about the ways we broke. Get out of my poetry, this isn’t about you anymore. This is about Los Angeles and how much I hate the sky. California wasn’t good for me — nothing about dying is pretty.

— Burn Victim | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)


Look how pretty the mountains were this morning after it rained

Even when I’m dead, I’ll swim through the Earth like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.

— Jeffrey McDaniel (via alonesomes)

When you stand
in the middle of my name
shoulder-deep in the river
weaving in-between the sounds.
When you turn my name on its side
to climb up the rungs
to put your ear down on my cheek
even though my teeth
have been clacking in your pocket
since your mouth first held my name isn’t
something to chew on but your bite
feels more like breath, a necessary
imploding bloom. When you reach up
in my name & pull out a bouquet
of flushed cheeks. When you shiver it
to shatter & scatter it to grow seed
on my skin. When you tear out
the rearview mirror in my name.
When you pull the moon down
to get a closer look. When you shake
all the ache out of my name.
When you flip it on its back
& lay out its legs. When it sails
over your lips it always sounds
like the first time my ears
ever heard it right.

Feelings of Forever  ✮  Amanda Oaks (via amanda-oaks)


complicate language. implicate language. subvert language. assert language. convert language. use language. diffuse language. refuse language. invent language. dissent language. devastate language. coronate language. detonate language. celebrate language. 

i feel like i’m a really moody person and while that’s true i am just so tired of feeling good about things so rarely and just being sidelined and lost and lonely most of the time i am just really exhausted.


i am really happy right now and it is a moment that i want to remember i had without putting all the details out in words.

I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a
single word: Home.

Mahmoud Darwish, from “I Belong There”, translated by Munir Akash and Carolyn Forché — posted on the-final-sentence (via hiddenshores)

page 79 of New Tab

جان‎/jan/jān/jaan [jan]

(noun) Jan/jaan is one of those specials words which lends itself across cultures and languages as a term of endearment and affection meaning, love, dear, heart, and life in East Asia. Arab/Persian: In Arabic, jan represents beloved one or dear. The Persian origins of this word mean life, equivalent to the Punjabi and Hindi definition. Calling a person your jaan, in comparison to the Arab and Persian culture, in South East Asian countries is an act of true love and intimiacy, and not used as liberally as the Persian connotation. Its true origins stem from Sanskrit. In Urdu you often refer to your lover and those your are close to as “meri jaan [meh-ree jan],” also meaning my life, and my dear. It has a deeper emotional meaning than merely calling someone your love, or sweetheart; it is used in the essence of true love. (via wordsnquotes)

It’s really strange because I’m as South Indian as a person can come and my Hindi is atrocious and I can barely say any word in it without it feeling more foreign than English but I love love love this word with all my heart and one day I am going to find a way to make it my own and call someone that for the first time and mean it so much I won’t know what to do with my hands.