I think too much when I kiss.
If love did not exist,
I would be so goddamn sane.
My poems would be billboards.
Suburbia would be enough.
I would not have to gut myself to find my spine,
crushed into powder,
and brushed on her cheekbones.
My hair would not be a hummingbird’s nest.
My mind would not have to move so fast to rest.
— Andrea Gibson (via loveyourchaos)