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Someday we will dare to trade good for true

Andrea Gibson

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Andrea Gibson
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: August 13
Poet
Calais
Maine
Andrew Gibson
Someday
Dare
Trade
True
Good

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We all have bullets beneath our skin we pray our lovers won't flinch at when they find.
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I said to the sun, ‘Tell me about the big bang.’ The sun said, ‘it hurts to become.
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The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.
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Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.
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Right now there’s a man on the street outside my door with outstretched hands full of heartbeats no one can hear. He has cheeks like torn sheet music every tear-broken crescendo falling on deaf ears. At his side there’s a boy with eyes like an anthem no one stands up for.
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I would kiss you in the middle of the ocean during a lightning storm cuz I'd rather be left for dead than wondering what thunder sounds like.
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To think, a sweater, is made entirely of knots. My stomach could clothe a village.
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The holy have done more damage to this world than the devil ever could.
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I have never met a heavy heart that wasn’t a phone booth with a red cape inside Some people will never understand the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside Some days I know my smile looks like the gutter of a falling house But my hands are always holding tight to the ripchord of believing
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You keep worrying you’re taking up too much space. I wish you’d let yourself be the milky way.
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We have to create it is the only thing louder than destruction.
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But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back.
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You have a heart of gold and I am kneeling in your bloodstream panning for the only thing that has ever felt like home.
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We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.
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My heart is still a leather jacket I am waiting to give to someone sweet.
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she's wondering how many women are walking around this world feeling the tingling of their amputated wings remembering what it was to fly to sing
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You can have a cold war with yourself, even in the summertime
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Remind me that the most fertile lands were built by the fires of volcanoes.
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My mouth is a fire escape. The words coming out don’t care that they are naked. There is something burning in there.
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Touch me ‘til my ribs become piano keys, ‘til there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs.
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