listen, you, with your beach glass heart you, with your moonshine teardrops this is a poem for the world and this is only a poem for you both of those things are true and neither, really but either way you, love are holy so, hold your capacity for melancholy and name...
Okay, so I’m a day late. But this one is worth it. Buddy Wakefield is a master. There is a point when tears don’t work to wash things away anymore. Grabbing for breath has now broken my fingers. I miss You so much some days that I beg for the airplane...
“For any woman who’s ever been told she’s too much: You, who broke out of the mold before they even cracked it off you. You, who came out inventing your own how-to-scale-a-wall with only vowels. You, who fireflash in the eye of so many midnights, so many men who...
“Love isn’t always magic. But if I offered my life to the magician, if I told her to cut me in half so tonight I could come to you whole and ask for you back would you listen? For this dark alley love song, for the winter we heated our home from the steam...
“I loved you the same way that I learned how to ride a bike: Scared… but reckless with no training wheels or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you. You see, I’m not really a love poet. But if I was I’d write about how I see your face in...
