1. buttonpoetry:

    Kait Rokowski - “For Christina Turner” (Poetry Observed)

    "There is a difference between open-door policy and trespassing. I should not be liable for what someone else takes from me."

    Performing as part of our original series with Poetry Observed.

    A proud best friend. Always proud.

  2. a follower into the darkness

    I don’t get it either.
    I know you’re sitting here in your blazer
    and moderately high heels
    getting mascara all the way down to your collar.
    And I don’t get it.
    And I know you know they say it doesn’t always make sense
    but goddammit if you didn’t want it to this time.
    You just wanted it to make sense.
    And maybe you can’t hear these next things right now.
    But maybe you can read them.
    And read them again,
    And read again.
    Until at least your left hand isn’t clutching the snot covered tissue.

    You are worth more than this.
    You are worth more than however small they told you, you were.
    You are worth more than the mid-lunch rejection email that reminds you they would looooove to still see you come back.
    You are worth more than the morning light sneak out, the shushed mention of her name, the “i’m tired, let’s try again another night.”
    You are worth more than the never remembering your name.
    You are worth more than the 8-5 office, the small window, the sad song on repeat turned down, the “we’ll call you”.
    You are worth more than someplace to go at 3 am.
    Don’t answer that phone call.
    The lock is only as sturdy as you believe it is.
    Keep the deadbolt clicked and beat your chest until your heart starts speeding and tell her you’re listening.
    If no one else is fucking listening, you are.
    You notice her. You hear that fucking beautiful song.

    I’ve heard the phrase, “we accept the love we think we deserve.”
    And you think love is all thunderstorms and missed calls and it’s not.
    It’s more than you’ve allowed yourself to hope for because they all taught you something so different.

    And you deserve more.
    You deserve front porch kisses
    and daytime hand holding
    and spotlights
    and to wear shoes that you love
    and to spend all these work hours pushing towards something you care about.
    You deserve someone who answers the phone
    and a home that grieves your absense
    and a bank account that is filled with tokens of kindness that you’ve given away because you never run out of those.
    You deserve a listener
    a follower into the darkness
    a reminder of the light
    a harmony to your heart beat.

    I’m sorry if it’s not here yet.
    I can feel the ache you’re constantly trying to bury.
    Let it unearth itself sometimes ok?
    You can cover yourself in the dirt of it.
    And I’m sorry.
    I’m so sorry.
    I’ll be here
    listening in the darkness
    no matter how long you want to shake.
    Go ahead.
    Give yourself permission to make some noise.

  3. kaitrokowski:

    In the morning
    I listen to him brush his teeth through the wall
    He hums some song in his throat
    And I try to find my skirt
    It is the nicest one I own
    But it smells of spilled ale and smoke
    Through the wall, he sounds happy
    And I pretend I am waiting for him to take me to breakfast

    (via kaitrokowski)

  4. This is the last song that leaves my body for you.

    Tom Misch, “The Last Song”

    listen.learn.repeat.sing.sing louder.you’ve always got another shot.

  5. you can show me where trouble goes, tell me secrets only trouble knows

    (Source: Spotify)

  6. monday.

    i saw a man on the sidewalk today that looked exactly like you, which is to say he looked nothing like you and he was just a man and i saw you, which is to say where are you, which is to say can you come home, which is to say god i didn’t realize how much i missed you, which is to say i’m still here.

  7. One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.

    Jack Kerouac 

    (via lovequotesrus)

    (Source: feellng, via lovequotesrus)

  8. Thanks Wednesday.

    This is exactly what I needed.

    Larkin is a genius.

  9. 'You've got to be crazy. It's too late to be sane, too late. You've got to go full tilt bozo cause you're only given a little spark of madness and if you lose that, you're nothing.' -R. Williams
    — (via frankocean)
  10. and i won’t say i told you so

    You’re the one that is here.
    You’re the one that believed him when he said he would be here.
    You’re the one that showed up at his stoop expecting him to be here.
    You’re the one that waited even though you had to pee so bad for him to arrive and open the door.
    It was your choice to arrive here.
    Your decision, only, to let the promise of him not reeking of night old alcohol and the end of a cigarette carry you here.
    You remembered how he woke up next to you,
    how he asked you to put your arm around him,
    how even when you wouldn’t out of fear of what exactly this opens up, he pulled it across his shoulders.
    You squeezed tight.
    You remembered how he bought the coffee,
    how he poached the eggs perfectly,
    how he offered you another bike.
    You let that bring you here,
    you naive girl.
    You, endless supply of the benefit of the doubt.
    You, believer of the best in them all.
    You, poor, naive girl.

    It has left you sitting here.
    At 2:47am.
    For too long.
    You’re the one that is still here.

    And you begin to wonder if he’ll ever come here,
    to open the door you knock on,
    to let you in even after he spent all night flirting with the empty bar stool, staring into the eyes of his own shot after shot after shot.
    And yes he was supposed to meet you,
    but those hollow bars can be so persuasive and tonight I guess you didn’t wear the right dress.
    The lonely streetlamp is already pitying you.
    Your dying phone is begging you to call anyone to come take you away from his house.

    And you’re still that one that is here.
    You told yourself you wanted to come so that’s exactly what you did.
    You made it.

    How does it feel?
    Like somebody wanted you here?
    Like somebody was hoping you would show up?
    Like somebody was listening for your knock on the door so they could welcome you in?
    Like somebody couldn’t wait for you to get here?

    I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.
    You just hang tight.