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Everyone’s chest is a living room wall with awkwardly placed photographs hiding fist-shaped holes.

Andrea Gibson

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Andrea Gibson
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: August 13
Poet
Calais
Maine
Andrew Gibson
Photograph
Fists
Wall
Shaped
Room
Chest
Rooms
Chests
Everyone
Photographs
Living
Placed
Hiding
Awkwardly
Holes
Fist

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In your arms I forget what the yarn knows of sweaters. I forget how to hold myself together. So if I unfold now like a love letter tell me you'll write back soon. Tell me you'll still come untethered.
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Know you belong here. You belong here and everything you feel is okay.
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Your ignorance keeps dismembering every piece of patience I have left.
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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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Touch me ‘til my ribs become piano keys, ‘til there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs.
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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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I don't believe we're hateful. I think mostly we're just asleep, but the math adds up the same.
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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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Love isn't always magic. Sometimes it's just melting.
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If you’re handing out flashlights in the dark, start handing out stars.
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Yes, I like girls Yes, I like boys I like boys who like boys I like girls who wear toys and girls who don't I like girls who don't call themselves girls Crew cuts or curls or that really bad hair phase in between.
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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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Love is like sunshine. Sometimes you have to get burned to know you were there. I want to know that I'm here.
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None of us are pretty, but our ugly has an alibi.
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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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Someday we will dare to trade good for true
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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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Do you know they found land mines in woman's souls.
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I'm not lookin' for someone who can save me. Life rafts might keep you afloat but they rarely get you anywhere and I've got places I wanna go. So break me in two, peel back my rib cage and cover every page of my heart with love poems you will burn someday.
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If love did not exist, I would be so goddamn sane.
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