katie j

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more

I once saw my veins as tight ropes binding my wrists together. I feverishly tried to cut the restraints off.
I am beginning to see them as stems from which flowers shall grow.

—decemberswrists (via decemberswrists)

(Source: f-l-o-w-e-r-ing, via thekristanholding)


I spent the whole day
crying and writing, until
they became the same,

as when the planet covers the sun
with all its might and still
I can see it, or when one dead

body gives its heart
to a name on a list. A match.
A light. Sailing a signal

flare behind me for another to find.
A scratch on the page
is a supernatural act, one twisting

fire out of water, blood out of stone
We can read us. We are not alone.

— Brenda Shaughnessy, “Miracles” in Our Andromeda


What if all possible
pain was only the grief of truth?

The throb lingering
only in the exit wounds?

— Brenda Shaughnessy, from “All Possible Pain” in Our Andromeda