Text 2 Mar 1 note Missing Pieces

I finally watched that old movie you once told me to watch,
I wonder if we laughed at the same funny spots.

I imagined you next to me, and we shared surprised glances,
As if the actors had studied our own private dances.

And just like I used to, I held out my hand
And you, without looking, reached back as if planned.

You know I taught our daughter that same trick as well,
Without looking, she’d reach, as if under a spell.

It’s funny, when I think of the one, I remember the two,
I think because she, most of all, was like you.

~Jay Michael

Text 28 Feb 6 notes 13-09

wagishwari:

Blessed with warm hands, but a fickle touch
Dressed up those wounds until it hurt too much
These spooks and scabs have started to seep
Into us
And the crooks and cracks have started to creep
Into me

Tried by these warm hands with their fickle touch
Tied then torn,
Until we became too much for us

via Outase.
Quote 28 Feb 5 notes
When my hands are applied to another task
Then the words I wish to write come flooding in at last
Flowing in my mind like water
When I’m busy with my daughter
If a pen is out of reach
My mind creates the best retreat
But hardly do I fully recall
The exact way to place them all
Text 28 Feb 2 notes Ode To London

You are so beautiful,
It crushes me how beautiful you are.

Your face,
Your face alone could quiet a raging battle,
As men still their swords while you walk by.

But you know,
You know,
You’ve heard it a million times.

And while it shouldn’t make any difference, because it’s true,
Somehow it does,
And the compliment dims just a little.

Jay Michael

Text 23 Feb 3 notes To My Wife on Valentines Day

I am alone
And often in the silence thoughts of you break over me like tidewaters
Who among men can resist moons and oceans and the wheeling forces of gravity
And so finally I relent and remember you fully
Without distraction

In my mind I see only that which favors you most
I hear only that which draws me to you
And I embrace your indomitable lightness of being
Which so perfectly balances all my melancholy ways

Tomorrow is the day set aside for lovers and while I am
At this moment
Without a lover
I am not without love
For your love sits still in me
And comes out when I am alone
And when the world is quiet

~ Jay Michael

Quote 23 Feb 50 notes
I wish I had your handprints in wet cement, our conversations graffitied on warehouse walls – something that declares “we were here”
I am almost certain I imagined all this
‘cause the teeth marks you left on my inner thigh faded right after I came
and you went the way they always do, quickly
so I called you up again
your jeans on the floor, our sleeping bodies facing blank bedroom walls
concrete evidence of my emotions –
I’ll let you vandalise all my emptiness just for one more night when I’m not alone.
Quote 23 Feb 37 notes
She spoke in delicate
lines of meticulous prose,
each word dripping with
delicious articulation,
he swooned over those
syllables escaping her parted lips. And he offered her compliments
pouring from his mouth like honey,
while they swayed on barstools
sipping that Tennessee poison.
It was adoration at it’s finest. There was something different about
that night, perhaps it was the moon,
yeah, people always mention
the moon when things change. And when she glanced over at him,
gently resting her lips on
the straw dancing between waves of whiskey and ice cubes.
She met his eyes and their lives
changed forever. He loved her at that moment
there was something about the way
the light danced upon her
painted frame in the dark corner
of that damp bar.
It was something about those lips
and the words crashing out of them,
that drove him to lustful insanity. They hardly spoke that night, just smiled, drank, and watched
as the dreamers, the drifters, the
lovers and loners walked past the bar.
It wasn’t a scene out of a movie,
or a page torn from a romantic novel,
it was just a simple night where two
people silently decided that there was nothing in the world that could tear them
from that exact barstool at that moment.
Video 10 Nov 218,537 notes

Ok, my dad built a two story tree house for my brother and I so of course I have to re-blog this.

(Source: ladyinterior)

Text 4 Nov

I am sad because I am getting fat,

I am getting fat because I am sad.

Fuck!

Photo 4 Nov 9,593 notes travelingcolors:

Park Güell, Barcelona | Spain (by Carlos Gotay)
Link 4 Nov 80 notes Depraved Devotion: Eulogies.»

depravedevotion:

I built myself a headstone
Commemorating all my years
On it, I chiseled my final verses
A monument to my toil and tears:

.

Here lies a lover who died alone
Buried in a single grave

Here lies a poet without a muse
Empty words filled up his page

Here lies a singer without a song


 

Photo 24 Oct 1,175 notes travelingcolors:

Kuchelbauer Tower, Abendsberg | Germany (by Elmar Bayer)
Photo 23 Oct 1,689 notes efidelity:

Claustral lightshow (by claustral)

efidelity:

Claustral lightshow (by claustral)

Text 22 Oct Closer

I can get no closer to a ship than to sail her

No closer to a song than to sing her

No closer to a poem than to read her

And no closer to a woman than to love her

~ Jay Michael

Text 22 Oct 13 notes THE ANGEL OF DEATH (TO DIE FOR LOVE)

bastardchildpoetry:

THE DELICATE BALANCE FOR WHICH I SPEAK

IS SURELY ENOUGH FOR ME TO BREATH

AND FIND MY WAY BENEATH HER THIGHS

AND COME SO HARD I REALIZE

IT’S ALL BEEN JUST A GAME

TO SEDUCE MYSELF TO BELIEVING

THAT I HAD CONTROL OVER SOMETHING I DIDN’T

THAT I COULD MAKE HER FEEL BENEATH ME,

BUT WOULD NEVER HAVE TO LOWER MYSELF

TO BECOME WHO I AM


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