Flannel shirt on the subway,
I love you.
Bodyguard arms, hands
clasped below the bellybutton.
Who are you protecting?
From across the train, I love you.
And maybe I can’t remember your
face, but I remember your clothes.
I remember the girl waiting for
you at the station and how your
body uncoiled at the sight of her.
I remember the slouch of your back once she touched you.
From the other end of Brooklyn,
I love you. Could have loved you.
Not as a stranger on the train,
not as a pair of eyes looking
too long, blinking.
Heart beating too fast
not mine not mine not mine.
In another world, I am the dream on
the platform, one foot on the yellow
line, waiting for your walk.
I kiss the rigid out of you.
I take your name out from under my
tongue and hand it to you.
When I was little, I thought that people could only pass away while they were in bed and sleeping. I used to think that I was alive because someone else was dying and I was their last dream.
Hello everyone! Just reminding you that my book, What We Buried, is available for purchase on Amazon as well as the Words Dance website!
I’m standing tall after
a wasted war.
I’m holding up. I’m holding up.
Even when the spaces of my spine
remind me of our distance, I don’t
miss you. No, not anymore.
-valentina thompson (via theseoverusedwords)
"Being white means never having to think about it."
#which is why the term white privilege REALLY angers people#it’s the first time many people hear themselves categorized by race#suddenly they feel burdened by the idea their race defines them#just like the words straight and cis really anger people#because it makes them feel Othered for once#and it’s disconcerting#white privilege(via spinals)