Friday 31 January 2014

tempest .

"Women like me do not fall gracefully,
we stumble over our spines, trip over
our vowels, and collapse into your arms.

Our hearts are open books,
Russian novels containing fifty pages
on the way your voice drifts across
the telephone wires each night.
Our hearts are first drafts,
unedited verses about each and every 
person we have ever loved: the stranger
on the subway, the girl who gave us a balloon,
the boy who stole our virginity
but not our heart.

Women like me will love you from a distance
of a thousand syllables while laying in your bed,
we will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible,
and when we leave you will finally understand
why storms are named after people."

by M.K. Wilde, Katrina
{Photo: Emily's Tumblr}

12 comments:

  1. This is sweet. and precious. And like us.

    <3

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  2. "we will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible,
    and when we leave you will finally understand
    why storms are named after people."

    At least you'll admit it. :)

    Just when I think I may have a better understanding of women one goes and says something like this. Infinitely mysterious they are to me.

    Good writing.

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  3. The photo you paired with this is beautiful. Thank you for adding it to my work, and for asking for my permission first.

    xo. M.K.

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  4. oh my goodness... that last line!! CHILLS!! you are such a beautiful writer!

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  5. S. you are such an amazing writer, you always touch me with your words... :)

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  6. God yes. I love all of this too much to pick out one single spot. Thank you for sharing her writing.

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  7. God damn, I remember the first time I read this, it still cracks the tip of my tongue when I read it out loud.

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  8. for lack of a better word, this is beautiful x

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