You read and write and sing …

August 27, 2014 § Leave a comment

You read and write and sing and experience, thinking that one day these things will build the character you admire to live as. You love and lose and bleed best you can, to the extreme, hoping that one day the world will read you like the poem you want to be.

― Charlotte Eriksson

The Fall

August 27, 2014 § Leave a comment

I said
“I love you so much it’s killing me”
and you kept saying sorry
so I stopped explaining
for it never made sense to you
what always did to me
to let what you love
kill you
and never regret.

As Romeo is dying Juliet says
“I am willing to die to remain by your side”
and love was never a static place of rest
but the last second of euphoria
while throwing yourself out from a 20 store window
to be able to say
“I flew before I hit the ground”,
and it was glorious.

Don’t be sorry.
The fall was beautiful, dear.
The crash was beautiful.

– Charlotte Eriksson

 

loving this ms. eriksson

I Will Love You Like The World Is Ending

August 27, 2014 § Leave a comment

One day I won’t be here anymore.
One rainy day you won’t find me laying beside you in bed when you wake up.
One day there will be no kissing in the morning
or coffee and cigarettes while waiting for the day to start.
There will be no more holding hands or texts starting with fire and ending with love.

One day I won’t be here anymore,
so maybe you can care about us now?
Maybe you can shelter us and treat this as if it won’t last
and as if each morning is the last morning,
and each kiss is the last kiss,
because I fear you’re taking this for granted,
and I know there are so many other great things you’ve had,
and I know I might not be that special,
but you’re by far the greatest thing I’ve ever had.

Soon enough I won’t be kissing you awake,
Because I feel this is the beginning of my end, darling,
I’m hurting in quite a lot of ways,
and as you know I never learned to stay
so I need to tell you, love,
that one day I won’t be here anymore.
And maybe then you can miss me a little bit?
Because I will be missing you for the rest of my days,
I even miss you when I’m with you because I know that it won’t last,
and it’s quite a heavy burden,
a heavy burden for my shrinking body to have.

So for now,
I will miss you like I’ll never see you again,
And the next time I see you,
I will kiss you like I’ll never kiss you again,
And when I fall asleep beside you
I will fall asleep as if I’ll never wake up again,
because I don’t know if I will.
I don’t know if I will.

I will love you like the world is ending,
because I fear it is.
I will love you like my faith is calling,
because I fear it is.
I fear it is.
I fear it is.

- Your Tragedy

- Charlotte Eriksson

Let me …

August 27, 2014 § Leave a comment

Let me wake up next to you, have coffee in the morning and wander through the city with your hand in mine, and I’ll be happy for the rest of my fucked up little life.

― Charlotte Eriksson

Mozart’s Concerto for Glass Harmonica

August 27, 2014 § Leave a comment

There you are, at the gate of the memory palace
underneath the rusted teeth of the portcullis,
your hand raised in a puzzling gesture—
is it farewell, come here, get back, no blame,
or are you just trying to hitch a ride? But I’ve seen
that gesture when you sleep, as if you were saying
to someone, on the one hand . . . on the other hand.
Here is a memory to store in the palace—
You and I at the circus. The arena is dark
except for one blue spotlight. In it, a clown
stands before a table. On the table an array,
crystal wine glasses filled with different levels
of water. He’s dressed in white with a conical hat,
tear marks on one cheek. With a wet finger,
he plays music that was once forbidden
because it made musicians lose their minds.
There is a blank look in his eyes and he performs
perfectly, as if he were a mechanical clown.
Now look up, the lady on the trapeze
is dropping large blue crepe-paper flowers.
Maybe the palace is the size of a dollhouse
and my eye at the window is the eye of a giant.
Maybe the palace is in my chest and my heart
is beating too loud inside. I remember
when I woke but was still asleep and saw
my chest rising and falling on its own
and then I accidentally rolled out of my body
and there were two of me lying side by side.
In an alcove shaped like a scallop shell I’ve placed
a list of the way lovers have said goodbye.
Developer fluid heated up, passed off
as consommé, is a standout. As is GOODBYE
written in shaving cream on the dusty windows
of a row of abandoned cars in Baja. Just as I begin
to suspect what is wrong with this picture
I notice how lightly you step over the grillwork
of the oubliette, that terrible lace under which
men are forgotten. You raise your hand again
and now I understand that gesture—
it’s how you erase the distant mountains,
the palace, the sky, everything.

- Richard Garcia

Mouthful of Forevers

August 25, 2014 § Leave a comment

I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.

This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.

And I will not be afraid
of your scars.

I know sometimes
it’s still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.

- Clementine von Radics

10 rules to follow in your relationship with her.

August 25, 2014 § Leave a comment

She likes to write. Encourage her.

Whatever you do, do not let her drink.
When she does, let her dance,
let her smoke another cigarette,
and let her yell at you.
Listen to her, because chances are
she is telling you that she loves you,
and this is a memory you do not want to forget.

Do not expect a lot of help from her friends.
They do not know about you,
and you should have been prepared for that.
You should have expected that.
She likes secrets, and this just shows
you were the most important one to keep.

Be prepared to be tackled when she is happy.

Wish her a happy birthday, and do not be late.
She will be elated. She will hold such joy
within her heart, that you will not even believe
that you were the one to cause such happiness.
Celebrate her enough for the both of you.

If she says she is going to kill you,
do not assume that it is a metaphor.

When she plays you a song, listen to it thoroughly.
This is her way of communicating everything
she cannot speak.

If she is feeling down, close the blinds
and crawl into bed. Wrap yourself around her
and watch twelve hours of whatever
ridiculous television show she has chosen,
because those are the times
she will appreciate the most.

Repeat to yourself that she will love you one day,
and some day you will start to believe it.

Finally, your time with her will be the happiest
you have been in your entire life. Enjoy it.

- Mariah Gordon-Dyke

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