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Touch me 'til my ribs become piano keys.

Andrea Gibson

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Andrea Gibson
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: August 13
Poet
Calais
Maine
Andrew Gibson
Ribs
Piano
Touch
Keys
Become

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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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If you ever reach enlightenment. will you remember how to laugh?
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My heart is still a leather jacket I am waiting to give to someone sweet.
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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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That night when you kissed me, I left a poem in your mouth, and you can hear some of the lines every time you breathe out.
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Everything but I LOVE YOU is small talk.
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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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What Gods do you believe in? I'll build you a temple of mirrors so you can see them.
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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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Touch me ‘til my ribs become piano keys, ‘til there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs.
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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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I could never trust anyone who's well adjusted to a sick society.
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We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.
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How many wars will it take us to learn that only the dead return?
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None of us are pretty, but our ugly has an alibi.
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I’d cut my soul into a million different pieces just to form a constellation to light your way home. I’d write love poems to the parts of yourself you can’t stand. I’d stand in the shadows of your heart and tell you I’m not afraid of your dark.
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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 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.
Andrea Gibson
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Know you belong here. You belong here and everything you feel is okay.
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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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