I remove my jewelry and set it on the nightstand,
I unhook my ribs, spread my lungs flat on a chair.
I dissolve like a remedy in water, in wine.
I spill without staining, and leave without stirring the air.
I do it for love. For love, I disappear.” —Kim Addonizio, For You (via silentsouls)
It is not the flesh I want
but what glows behind it.
For you are not the face
softened with evening. Not
the eyes I’ve searched,
in vain, for my own.
Because you are never what binds you—
not muscle or organ, not even
the voice: that rupture of air
I dare to deem melodic.
Who can trust the body
when making love?
How it never fails
to fail so accurately. The way
it promises to wither
As I lie on top, my tongue
resting on your chest—
the steady metronome
blooming beneath it, I can’t help the urge
to pry you open, plunge through
the artifice of beauty.
And if I were to tear apart
the heart, lower my face
into that warmth, would I see you
among that glistening ruin?
Would there be
a small sphere of light
stick a fake mustache on a random spot on your TV. every time it looks like someone has a mustache, take a drink. drink twice if they already have a mustache (three times if said mustache is also fake)
I bet Jesus plays this drinking game
I wanna play this!
if someone has a fake mustache I have a bottle of vodka!