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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
Keys
Become
Ribs
Piano
Touch
More quotes by Andrea Gibson
If you’re handing out flashlights in the dark, start handing out stars.
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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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None of us are pretty, but our ugly has an alibi.
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The holy have done more damage to this world than the devil ever could.
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To think, a sweater, is made entirely of knots. My stomach could clothe a village.
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I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good. I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass.
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We were all born on days when too many people died in terrible ways, but you still have to call it a birthday.
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Fear is only a verb if you let it be. Don't you dare let go of my hand!
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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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Know you belong here. You belong here and everything you feel is okay.
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Remind me that the most fertile lands were built by the fires of volcanoes.
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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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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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You keep worrying you’re taking up too much space. I wish you’d let yourself be the milky way.
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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 don't have a single plan for my life more important than learning to love people well.
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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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You are not weak just because your heart feels so empty.
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Say this is what the pain made of you: an open, open, open road, an avalanche of feel it all.
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How many wars will it take us to learn that only the dead return?
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