I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know that there’s nothing but light when I see you.
In your arms I forget what the yarn knows of sweaters.
I forget how to hold myself together.
So if I unfold now like a love letter tell me you’ll write back soon.
Andrea Gibson, excerpt from “Yarn” (via larmoyante)
My heart is my weakness, my heart is my strength.
'His soul,’ she would say, ‘picked mine up and we flew.’ And to those who gave her a disbelieving look, she would insist. ‘Have you never touched someone and felt them? Felt what was inside of their body?'