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Where's your favorite place to hang out?
Formspring question of the day
this cafe one street away from campus named artopolis which I've spent my weekends at tirelessly. they make amazing crepes, fantastic brunch, the greek yoghurt is creamy but melded with a generous proportion of homemade strawberry preserve. their wifi password is their phone number, and the best part of all they do amazing pastries like those in france except they use whipped vanilla cream instead of custard to do so
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hi april! ollllddd friend here haha you would probably be surprised to know who this is. okay anyway gah that anon asking about fin aid sounds rude-ish. here's a nicer question - whats your favourite poem and why? :)
i'm so bad at keeping in touch with old friends, if i haven't seen you in a while please drop me a note and catch up!! :D
right now, my fav poem doesn't exist. i hope i don't sound picky but, there isn't one particular one i'd single out and feel like it'd exemplify everything i'm about or that is absolutely magical.
but the poems i deeply love are ones that tug at something within my chest. and they either resonate feelings because they are that stirring, or they give me a sharp twinge from something that has happened to me in the past.
i'd say You Don't Know What Love Is by kim addonizio is one i adore very much, because it holds far more sentiment than any other poem. and various people in my life will take that in varying amounts of severity.
You Don't Know What Love Is by kim addonizio
You don’t know what love is
but you know how to raise it in me
like a dead girl winched up from a river. How to
wash off the sludge, the stench of our past.
How to start clean. This love even sits up
and blinks; amazed, she takes a few shaky steps.
Any day now she’ll try to eat solid food. She’ll want
to get into a fast car, one low to the ground, and drive
to some cinderblock shithole in the desert
where she can drink and get sick and then
dance in nothing but her underwear. You know
where she’s headed, you know she’ll wake up
with an ache she can’t locate and no money
and a terrible thirst. So to hell
with your warm hands sliding inside my shirt
and your tongue down my throat
like an oxygen tube. Cover me
in black plastic. Let the mourners through.
a couple of other ones that i've fallen in love with and have posted on tdogd are:
http://thesedropsofgoldendreams.tumblr.com/post/4275324494/daughter-nicole-blackman-one-day-ill-give-birth
http://thesedropsofgoldendreams.tumblr.com/post/2067563179/when-a-woman-loves-a-man-by-david-lehman-when-she
http://thesedropsofgoldendreams.tumblr.com/post/5097096666/love-forgive-me-sierra-demulder-my-sister-told
http://thesedropsofgoldendreams.tumblr.com/post/1311869876/frida-kahlo-to-marty-mcconnel-leaving-is-not
http://thesedropsofgoldendreams.tumblr.com/post/2608111863/the-forgotten-dialect-of-the-heart-jack-gilbert
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