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rawr

@syyeera

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sanddollarpoems

Is it any surprise that I've run out of words

Every time I find myself in your eyes

Is it unusual that I don't feel afraid

When I'm carried by your warm smile

Is it possible that all this time breaking

Was the path that was leading

And is it any surprise that I find myself

In the moments that I get lost in you

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antigonick
“For years, the habit of wanting you, carried like something unnoticed, lint in a pocket, or manzanita seed waiting a fire—”

— Jane Hirshfield, excerpt of “Desire”, in Of Gravity Angels