Look at me like you look at your favorite pair of socks.
Just a glance, in passing —
to check that I’m there,
that I am warm,
that I can be yours when you need me.
Don’t call me beautiful.
Call me by the name my mother plucked
just for me, off the island whose trees
fleck my blood with olive and salt.
Let the syllables sing,
a Mediterranean wave cresting, crashing.
Before running a red light,
kiss your fore and middle fingers;
tap the car hood and think of me.
Make me your little superstition,
never a crutch or criticism,
but something brought to life with your breath —
something you believe in.
Love me. Love me simply.
So simply that we’ll forget
the word has to exist
between us at all.
okay but a story about an asexual pirate who gets made fun of by the crew until he saves all of them from sirens
A pirate for the adventure, not the booty
oh my gosh i want that on a bumper sticker
Trying to pilot a ship here. Thanks.
IT GOT BETTER
It’s so weird, having moved into college. I’ve visited this city many times before, the odd part is that this time, I’m not leaving. I live here now.