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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.

Andrea Gibson

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Andrea Gibson
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: August 13
Poet
Calais
Maine
Andrew Gibson
Back
Bruises
Like
Spine
Hitting
Kicks
Loneliness
Bottom
Started
Thought
Bruise

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A doctor once told me I feel too much. I said, so does god. that’s why you can see the grand canyon from the moon.
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I don't have a single plan for my life more important than learning to love people well.
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Hey, are you a boy or a — never mind, can I have a push on the swing?” And some day, y’all, when we grow up, it’s all gonna be that simple.
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Know you belong here. You belong here and everything you feel is okay.
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We are all instruments pulling the bows across our own lungs. Windmills, still startling in every storm. Have you ever seen a newborn blinking at the light? I wanna do that every day. I wanna know what the kite called itself when it got away, when it escaped into the night.
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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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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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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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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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You keep worrying you’re taking up too much space. I wish you’d let yourself be the milky way.
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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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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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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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My heart is still a leather jacket I am waiting to give to someone sweet.
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I'm never gonna wait that extra twenty minutes to text you back and I'm never gonna play hard to get when I know your life has been hard enough already.
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None of us are pretty, but our ugly has an alibi.
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To think, a sweater, is made entirely of knots. My stomach could clothe a village.
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For Halloween I'm gonna be emotionally stable. No one's gonna know it's me.
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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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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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