Vintage Tumblr Themes

She keeps her makeup in the ceramic bowl of bullets beside a jelly jar full of gardenias on an old dresser in Mississippi
Where outside tomato plants grow in the bellies of old boats and she carries a knife just in case she finds something she wants to carve her name into
I swear to god if I had an Adam’s apple I would tell her to peel it and take a bite
Meaning this time I am not turning back
I am not turning in
I am turning over every leaf of all my leaving
I am moonlighting as the moon light

My shine is working overtime just to hear her call me ‘honey’
It makes me feel like the bee’s knees
Like I could finally lose my past like the keys to the getaway car
Like all my fucking up might finally be out of gas
Like there will be no more war fought in my name
What if my name is nothing but ‘honey’?

Do you realize I gave up on this in my twenties
You were the first thing I ever wrote on a vision board
I cannot wait to tell you the truth better than I have ever told the truth before
And no that does not mean that I’m going to tell you that you look like Marilyn Monroe
But you do
and it makes me want to run
For president
Jesus fucking Kennedy

Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are when you’re tripping
Literally tripping
I have never met anyone more clumsy
You walk into a room and turn every head when you crash to the floor
And I’m like ‘that’s my girl!’
That’s my girl with the busted lip and no she’s not embarrassed that’s a sunburn she already had from my moonlight

Now bring me a Shirley temple
I’m going to trampoline every inch of cement in this town
And she’s going to teach me how to bounce back
Mixing her southern polite with her New Orleans fuck-off-honey

I wanna hear every story about your whole life
Tell me again about your ghetto blaster birthday cake
Tell me again how you were master pumpkin carver
Tell me again how you’ve never ever been to therapy
Why does that turn me on

You have a friend who tattooed the words “you wish” on her ring finger
I have a friend who pulled out her tampon on the streets of manhattan and threw it at a misogynist cop
We are perfect for each other

Come drink like a fish in my desert city
I want to be the fairy in your Irish pub
I want to be your pretty boy
I want you to tell all your friends you’re out of my league so I can slap you high five when I’m sliding into home

So when I start writing down our love in public poems
You know you can burn all of my books if I don’t live up to my word
If you ever have any doubt that I am going to live up to the altitude of your highest hopes, remember it was for you that I overcame my fear of flying
For you that I learned the ropes of rescue remedy
do not under any circumstances rip off the top of the bottle and start chugging it like booze
You’ll freak out everyone on the plane
And you don’t need enemies at 30,000 feet trust me
You just need to know this is the first time I’ve ever done this without looking for an exit row
And I’m pretty sure my seat can’t float but I’ve already fallen from the sky for you
Already said no to the parachute
Already told my mother you curse like a sailor and you love like the war is finally over and you have just come home and you are running down the dock in the harbor and you’re screaming my name
You’re screaming “honey”
and I’m screaming “don’t trip”
and you’re screaming “honey honey”
and I’m screaming “baby don’t fall down”
I am running for your red lips
I am running for your red heart
With my red heart
Red as a Mississippi sunset

-Andrea Gibson “Honey” (via ohandreagibson)
"Emergency Contact
It’s not that I think I am your type I think I’m the exact font you have been searching for your entire life I can tell by the way your fingers hover above the A key That’s me: Awkward So what?

I’ve been loving you eleven years
Eleven years standing outside your window
Throw down your hair
I’m talking about the hair you pulled from the drain when you were cleaning your tub
I want everything
You have ever tried to wash away
The first time you were teased in junior high
The last time you blushed from a compliment
Every fever that is not yet broken
It is true, I have never made a love potion that hasn’t blow up,
But your mouth is the sexist beaker
Bend me over your periodic table
Then try to tell me we don’t have chemistry

Of course
I am poly
As in polygraph machine
As in I can tell you are lying when you tell me you don’t want me
In a cheerleading outfit spelling only your name with pompoms
I will faithfully put anything on for you

Name the time period
Jazz age? I’ll wear a pocket watch beneath my flapper dress while fist fighting Hemingway for a seat beside you at the bullfight
I’ll grab your hand and we’ll run straight for the bull
What is love if it’s not running straight for the bull?
Then carrying him into an animal sanctuary in Massachusetts
Where he’ll forever be best friends with a pig named George

Love is a downpour of shelter
I want to wrap you in blankets until you are so dry you’re wet
I want to come clean in our dirtiest bed
Fuck playing the field
Do you have any idea how wild I could grow in the flowerpot beside your desk?
Baby, all of your petals are welcome here
In every ounce of your drought I will never ask you to weed your fear

When I say I want all of you I mean that chair jammed under the doorknob
I am a master at holding my ear to the wall and knowing when the coast is clear
The coast is most clear when there are lovers making love in the lighthouse
Telling one truth is a years worth of lamp oil
I will tell you the truth until every ship has come home to harbor
I will tuck you in every night beneath the quilt of sails

I will hire a stubborn mechanic
Someone willing to lay on his back beneath a ton of steel
Have him whisper to every valve of your heavy heart
Nothing can be fixed
Everything can be healed
That’s why my gravel throat keeps calling through this canyon
That’s why I keep lighting this torch after so many years
I promise to be so careful with the bird’s nest in the chimney

Give me one night One date
I have plenty of patience to wait
But what I know of eventually is that it rarely arrives without an escort of spill your guts
You can have all of my pipe organs
You can make an opera of my throat
You told me years ago I should start writing the poems I am terrified to write
Well here you go

It’s not that I’m not terrified
You’re going to break my heart in half
But when you do I want to have written your name as my emergency contact
I want God to call you and say if the door frame that saves you from the earthquake is part of love’s ribcage
Then the falling roof of your fear is love’s lung pulling you closer towards the truce
That final truce where even your terror becomes an open field
Love, this is the place where the wounded started calling the wounds on their knees ‘strawberries’

I will meet you by the maple tree
That will be my jacket thrown across the mud puddle
Waiting to dry your pretty feet “

-Andrea Gibson, “Emergency Contact” (via ohandreagibson)
"Hallelujah to making everyone uncomfortable
To the terrible manners of truth"
-Andrea Gibson, “Etiquette Leash” (via ohandreagibson)