“…The man who has no love for anyone now suffers in its grasp.”
Lament
“…The man who has no love for anyone now suffers in its grasp.”
Lament
Never apologise forhow much love youhave to give. Just feelsorry for those who didn’twant any of it.
“They don’t love. They play. They’re big, cruel children and they want shiny new toys. You’re shiny and new. He’s playing you.”
Lament
Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth and the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.
Pour yourselfinto me andI will notlet a dropof you hitthe ground.
“And if love moves like air, then teach me how to dig my nails into the palm of my hand so I can remember what you once felt like.”
He’s my content sigh in the morning and my last thought before I sleep. He also happens to be everything in between.
I stumbled across this quote a few nights ago, and it struck a chord with me; I guess it sounded more lyrical and less syntactical to me. I investigated this quote, which I saw was written by Frida Kahlo (although the origins are still debatable) a little further, and found there was a whole poem to it. The poem is now referred to as “Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell”, which I have re-written as an open letter. I hope you fall in love with it as I have!
Leaving you is not enough; you must stay gone. Train your heart like a dog. Change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size. A bathtub full of tea. A heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier match puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them, You had to have him. And you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. Make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. Place it on whatever alter you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. And you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.