a reflection on this past semester:
it was a piece of shit
"
☾
even when your tongue
is the only muscle in you i love
even when the grease in your
hair sticks to me for a week
even when your mouth is
ripe on mine
even when your pioneer hands
take the shape of my hips
you are not the tired voice i
want to hear in the morning
you are not the wound on my
thigh i tell stories about
you are not a shield from the
rain and you stay dry
you are an old wooden ship all your own
" — “Maritime,” Amanda Birkner (via commovente)
