People don’t talk to me.They talk to my shadow,my body.They don’t talk to my soul.They never did.
Nobody wanted your dance,
Nobody wanted your strange glitter, your floundering
Drowning life and your effort to save yourself,
Treading water, dancing the dark turmoil,
Looking for something to give.
Ted Hughes, Birthday Letters (via observando)
There’s two kinds of women—those you write poems about and those you don’t.
Jeffrey McDaniel (via observando)