“It could be yesterday
when I was less in love
I think
For I didn’t see you in the mirror
behind me
while getting dressed.
The way your hands couldn’t stay away
and our bodies always found their ways back to each other
as if they were meant to be together
Close.
But then it was today and I saw you
again
in the mirror
behind me while getting dressed
So I go to sleep tonight
alone
without actually falling asleep because I’m scared of the moment I will wake up
and realise it was just a dream
You’re actually gone.
Now all I can do is get through to another tomorrow
hoping that I will be less in love
again
Like yesterday
But not today.
I was never really well with things at all.”
―
when I was less in love
I think
For I didn’t see you in the mirror
behind me
while getting dressed.
The way your hands couldn’t stay away
and our bodies always found their ways back to each other
as if they were meant to be together
Close.
But then it was today and I saw you
again
in the mirror
behind me while getting dressed
So I go to sleep tonight
alone
without actually falling asleep because I’m scared of the moment I will wake up
and realise it was just a dream
You’re actually gone.
Now all I can do is get through to another tomorrow
hoping that I will be less in love
again
Like yesterday
But not today.
I was never really well with things at all.”
―
“You read and write and sing and experience, thinking that one day these things will build the character you admire to live as. You love and lose and bleed best you can, to the extreme, hoping that one day the world will read you like the poem you want to be.”
―
―
“I want to burn with excitement or anger and bleed, bleed out my words. I want to get all fucked up and write raw and ugly about all these things I see and am and could be.”
― Empty Roads & Broken Bottles: in search for The Great Perhaps
― Empty Roads & Broken Bottles: in search for The Great Perhaps
“I would say Pittsburgh softly each time before throwing him up. Whisper Pittsburgh with my mouth against the tiny ear and throw him higher. Pittsburgh and happiness high up. The only way to leave even the smallest trace. So that all his life her son would feel gladness unaccountably when anyone spoke of the ruined city of steel in America. Each time almost remembering something maybe important that got lost.”
― Collected Poems
― Collected Poems
Martin’s 2025 Year in Books
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