mightymikemcgee

There’s a woman I’m in love with, but I forget
what she looks like, so I take out my paintbrushes
and create my image of her.
Your eyes are blue like the morning of going.
Your ears are tender twists of logic, Your thighs
are impossible avenues my car swerves out of control on.

I want to cut the silence with one of your shoulderblades,
blow moon-shaped kisses to orbit your skull
as you sleep on the highest ledge of my insomnia,

but I’m a broken promise in a pawn shop,
and this is just a secret that happens to involve you.

Jeffrey McDaniel, Another Long Night in the Office of Dreams

(via jeffreymcdanielpoetry)

we’ve promised not to make promises, not to build certainties out of uncertain futures. but i am naïve and still some kind of young and if i had a promise to make, it would be this:

that at the edge of the universe i will wait for you with summer on the tip of my tongue, ribbons in my hair, and an orange in my hand – in case you are thirsty. that at the edge of the universe i will let you kiss my eyelids, and when you take my hand we’ll spin together along jagged coast, cliffs jutting out to sea.

when we let each other go (which we will be apt to do sometimes) i’ll rub cold hands together, breathe in pine and spruce and stars, walk barefoot. you in my memory are wild mushrooms, rich and earthy and elusive. in yours i want to be that orange: brightly joyful and honest, with a few interrupting seeds.