When I was trying to quit smoking
and we drank white wine from Mason jars,
you called my freckles cocoa powder
and I called your green eyes
I am learning how to be a grown-up
who pays bills, cooks her own meals,
and doesn’t cry at words like
I think I just want to be friends.
The truth is this:
Love is an organic thing.
It rots and softens.
—Clarice Lispector, from An Apprenticeship (University of Texas Press, 1986)
what we want them to.
But you can’t have two worlds in your hands
and choose emptiness.
—Mary Szybist, from “So-and-So Descending from the Bridge”, in Incarnadine (via hiddenshores)
There were so many things I wanted to tell you.
I wished to have things that I wanted to tell you.
What a thing, to be with you and have
no words for it. What a thing,
to be outcast like that.
—Mary Szybist, from “Long after the Desert and Donkey,” Incarnadine: Poems (Graywolf Press, 2013)