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That night when you kissed me, I left a poem in your mouth, and you can hear some of the lines every time you breathe out.

Andrea Gibson

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Andrea Gibson
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: August 13
Poet
Calais
Maine
Andrew Gibson
Lines
Kissed
Inspirational
Poem
Left
Sexy
Night
Mouth
Every
Breathe
Time
Mouths
Poetry
Hear

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Autumn is the hardest season. The leaves are all falling, and they're falling like they're falling in love with the ground.
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...And for every day you paint the war, take a week and paint the beauty, the color, the shape of the landscape you’re marching towards. Everyone knows what you’re against show them what you’re for.
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Do you think anger is a sincere emotion or the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?
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Touch me 'til my ribs become piano keys.
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We're boxed in and labeled before we're ever able to speak who we believe we are or who we dream we'll become.
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This is my body. It is no one's but mine.
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To think, a sweater, is made entirely of knots. My stomach could clothe a village.
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If you’re handing out flashlights in the dark, start handing out stars.
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Love isn't always magic. But if I offered my body to the magician, if I told him to cut me in half so after that I could come to you whole and ask for you back would you listen for this dark alley love song? For the winter we heated our home from the steam off our own bodies?
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But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back. There is no bruise like the bruise loneliness kicks into your spine.
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You can have a cold war with yourself, even in the summertime
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If love did not exist, I would be so goddamn sane.
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My heart is still a leather jacket I am waiting to give to someone sweet.
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Forests may be gorgeous but there is nothing more alive than a tree that learns how to grow in a cemetery.
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You can stand on the cliff of my heart and shout nothing but ‘ugly’ through me. I promise all I will echo back is ‘Beauty, beauty, you have always been beauty
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Someday we will dare to trade good for true
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You can find me on the moon waxing and waning. My heart full of petals, every single one begging 'Love me, love me, love me. Whoever I am. Whoever I become.'
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and I wonder if Beethoven held his breath the first time his fingers touched the keys the same way a soldier holds his breath the first time his finger clicks the trigger. We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.
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Love isn't always magic. Sometimes it's just melting.
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Know you belong here. You belong here and everything you feel is okay.
Andrea Gibson