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We all have bullets beneath our skin we pray our lovers won't flinch at when they find.

Andrea Gibson

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Andrea Gibson
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: August 13
Poet
Calais
Maine
Andrew Gibson
Pray
Lovers
Praying
Find
Flinch
Bullets
Beneath
Skin
Skins

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I know a thousand things louder than a soldier's gun I know the heartbeat of his mother.
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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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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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Safety isn't always safe. You can find one on every gun.
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If love did not exist, I would be so goddamn sane.
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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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Your ignorance keeps dismembering every piece of patience I have left.
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Last night I saw your ghost pedalling a bicycle with a basket towards a moon as full as my heavy head and I wanted nothing more than to be sitting in that basket like ET with my glowing heart glowing right through my chest and my glowing finger pointing in the direction of our home.
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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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I am wrong more often than i am writing and even then i am often wrong
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If you’re handing out flashlights in the dark, start handing out stars.
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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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The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.
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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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My heart is still a leather jacket I am waiting to give to someone sweet.
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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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I have always been comfortable weathering the storm. I’d like to get more comfortable weathering the sunny day.
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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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This is my body. It is no one's but mine.
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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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