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You are not weak just because your heart feels so empty.

Andrea Gibson

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Andrea Gibson
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: August 13
Poet
Calais
Maine
Andrew Gibson
Weak
Feels
Heart
Empty

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If love did not exist, I would be so goddamn sane.
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For Halloween I'm gonna be emotionally stable. No one's gonna know it's me.
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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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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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Safety isn't always safe. You can find one on every gun.
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If you ever reach enlightenment. will you remember how to laugh?
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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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Our insanity is not that we see people who aren’t there. It’s that we ignore the ones who are.
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I intend to leave this life so shattered there's gonna have to be a thousand separate heavens for all of my flying parts
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I thought, The flowers, save the flowers... I never thought for a second we wouldn't save the people
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If a tree fell in the forest, and you were the only one there to hear it if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist, or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?
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I know you think this world is too dark to even dream in color, but I’ve seen flowers bloom at midnight. I’ve seen kites fly in gray skies and they were real close to looking like the sunrise, and sometime it takes the most wounded wings the most broken things to notice how strong the breeze is, how precious the flight.
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So guess what, if I ever have my own team I am picking everyone first even the worst kid and the kid with the stutter like a skipping record 'cause I know all of us are scratched, even if you can't hear it when we speak.
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Every lover is a storm chaser. Every good heart has lost its roof.
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I have always been comfortable weathering the storm. I’d like to get more comfortable weathering the sunny day.
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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. 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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Touch me ‘til my ribs become piano keys, ‘til there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs.
Andrea Gibson
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Sometimes the break in your heart is like the hole in the flute. Sometimes it’s the place where the music comes through.
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I write because it is while I'm writing that I feel most connected to why we're here. I write because silence is a heavy weight to carry. I write to remember. I write to heal. I write to let the air in. I write as a practice of listening.
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