I Heard If You Make A Post About Blackout Poetry Someone Will Make Blackout Poetry Of It.

I love you:

The words I gave you

So you could tear me to pieces

Or hold onto me

I gave you my heart

So you could make it bleed

Or wrap your arms around me

I gave you my thoughts

So you could choose to destroy them

Or fill them

I gave you my life

So you could burn it

But you decided to save it

-- by me

She used to gaze up at the stars

When mom drove her home at night

She thought everyone would know her name

And she'd never be put down without a fight

They said you can do what you put your mind to

But she was always scared of changing her mind

She didn't know the world the way she does now

That dreams like that were not for her to find

-- a poem by me

Blackout Poetry #28

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there's something very lovely about doing homework in bed in the late afternoon on a sunday while listening to beatles records and having a pumpkin spice candle lit and the sunlight slanting golden in through the window and the wind blowing and the bright red leaves on the trees and feeling very productive and peaceful and happy

"We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright."

-- Ernest Hemingway (A Moveable Feast)

"You have gained a new source of enjoyment, and it is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible."

-- Jane Austen (Northanger Abbey)

I saw The Lumineers the other day (my favorite band), and I can tell you that post-concert depression is real

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-- Dylan Thomas

Maybe this one's overrated, but it's my favorite.

You must realize there are consequences for your attractions

Does anyone else get this really strong urge to hug their best friend? Like, not just, "Oh, I'd like to hug my friend now." It's, "I NEED TO HUG MY MOST FAVORITE HUMAN BEING IN THE UNIVERSE SO TIGHTLY RIGHT NOW OR I THINK I MIGHT DIE" Cause I feel like that all the time.