✄ out here the good girls die

I think too much when I kiss.

If love did not exist,

I would be so goddamn sane.

My poems would be billboards.

Suburbia would be enough.

I would not have to gut myself to find my spine,

crushed into powder,

and brushed on her cheekbones.

My hair would not be a hummingbird’s nest.

My mind would not have to move so fast to rest.

— Andrea Gibson (via loveyourchaos)