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I'm good at loving books. I'm good at loving soft bed sheets. I'm good at loving coffees and teas. I am good at loving things that can't love me back, that don't have the power to leave. And maybe, that's why I love them.

Andrea Gibson

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Andrea Gibson
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: August 13
Poet
Calais
Maine
Andrew Gibson
Back
Soft
Book
Coffee
Good
Bed
Things
Loving
Love
Leave
Maybe
Teas
Books
Sheets
Power
Tea

More quotes by Andrea Gibson

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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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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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I don't have a single plan for my life more important than learning to love people well.
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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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Let me also say I wanna make you sandwhiches, And soup, And peanut butter cookies, Though, the truth is peanutbutter is actually really bad for you 'cause they grow peanuts in old cotton fields to clean the toxins out of the soil, But hey, you like peanutbutter and I like you!
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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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If you ever reach enlightenment. will you remember how to laugh?
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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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Your ignorance keeps dismembering every piece of patience I have left.
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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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Remember, you didn’t come here to write your heart out. You came to write it in.
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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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Remind me that the most fertile lands were built by the fires of volcanoes.
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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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This is my heartbeat like yours, it is a hatchet It can build a house or tear one down.
Andrea Gibson
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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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The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.
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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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You panic button collector. You clock of beautiful ticks. You run out the door if you need to. You flock to the front row of your own class. You feather everything until you know you can always, always shake like a leaf on my family tree and know you belong here. You belong here and everything you feel is okay. Everything you feel is okay.
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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.
Andrea Gibson