my favorite eye color is your eye color and my favorite height is your height and my favorite weight is your weight my favorite hands are your hands my favorite knees are your knees
becoming the color of air.
People, seasons, ownings
more and more pass through me.
I am lighter than I have ever been,
more foolish, more longing,
wrong about so much.
I did not know I could possibly feel
as if nothing had happened yet,
as if it were only now beginning,
breath rising, eyes lifting,
fingers opening for their first
wondering touch of the world."
- Deborah Pope, closing strophe to “Lines from the Book of Days,” from Falling Out of the Sky (Louisiana State University Press, 1999)
just a small town girl. Living in a racist, insensitive, sexist, homophobic world,
(cant take the midnight train ‘cause im fuckin scared)
Black Magic Woman by Santana