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t. e. talbott
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April 2019
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melancholia in the milky way
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Strangers
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
never just a heart
when i tell you that i love you
i do not love you with just a heart,
i love you with unsteady hands,
hands that grip your hands,
with fingers skimming
every bit of skin they can.
i love you with a faulty brain,
a brain that learns you to love you,
without the capacity to love myself.
i love you with lungs;
i’m screaming at the top of them,
how i love you so much
that if you were a cigarette,
i’d let you turn t
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t. e. talbott
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thank you so much ❤️
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"Beautifully written to remind us about forgiveness and hope, I loved this story"
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thank you so much for your support Erin! I appreciate you!
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"i bought this book the day t. announced its release and i am soo happy i did. it was such an emotional creative rollercoaster that i couldn't put down! i fell in love with her poetry first and now i am looking forward to her stories!! also fingers cr"
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Oh my goodness, thank you so much Christin ❤️ I'm so happy you liked it and thank you so much for leaving a review! I appreciate you
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"To say I loved this book feels like a MASSIVE understatement. My mind is continuously blown by this author! If it's not her poetry, it's her fiction, now.
Strangers is an incredibly heartwrenching story with characters you just want to squeeze. One o" Read more of this review » |
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t. talbott
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I'm so glad they can be that for you, Erin. I appreciate you very much
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thank you so much Sammy for this very kind review
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“they say actions speak louder than words;
tell me why we swallow poetry
like it's some kind of cure.”
― melancholia in the milky way
tell me why we swallow poetry
like it's some kind of cure.”
― melancholia in the milky way
“sometimes i feel more like a house than a person
with the way i decorate my body and my face
to hide damaged walls and empty spaces;
my heart is more like a door with changed locks
because i've made multiple keys for people
who walked all over me with filthy shoes,
people who said they could live here,
but they were just passing through.
i hope my eyes are not windows,
because i fear what the world might see—
all of my flaws and insecurities on display
like a coffee table or some shoddy love seat.
sometimes i swear i left the oven on and forgot
because my mind feels like a smoke detector
with the way my apprehension never calms.
i smell smoke, but i can't see it;
i'm told things are never as bad as i make them,
but every wildfire starts with a spark
and it's easy to burn when you're a house made of straw.”
― melancholia in the milky way
with the way i decorate my body and my face
to hide damaged walls and empty spaces;
my heart is more like a door with changed locks
because i've made multiple keys for people
who walked all over me with filthy shoes,
people who said they could live here,
but they were just passing through.
i hope my eyes are not windows,
because i fear what the world might see—
all of my flaws and insecurities on display
like a coffee table or some shoddy love seat.
sometimes i swear i left the oven on and forgot
because my mind feels like a smoke detector
with the way my apprehension never calms.
i smell smoke, but i can't see it;
i'm told things are never as bad as i make them,
but every wildfire starts with a spark
and it's easy to burn when you're a house made of straw.”
― melancholia in the milky way
“i am something very gentle, very jealous
of the selfless way my heart pumps blood
for my ungrateful body,
of how the bones in my spine uplift my head,
despite how i insist we're crumbling,
we're crumbling,
always crying over spilled milk,
when i could be strong
like stainless steel or spider silk,
when i could be kevlar
instead of the honeycombed human
digging out bullets,
when i could be the tornado
instead of Dorothy missing Kansas,
when i could be a bone-dry Martini
instead of the one retching,
when i could be something like you,
the shoulder to lean on
and not the one reeling,
the one picking up eggshells
and never the one breaking.”
― melancholia in the milky way
of the selfless way my heart pumps blood
for my ungrateful body,
of how the bones in my spine uplift my head,
despite how i insist we're crumbling,
we're crumbling,
always crying over spilled milk,
when i could be strong
like stainless steel or spider silk,
when i could be kevlar
instead of the honeycombed human
digging out bullets,
when i could be the tornado
instead of Dorothy missing Kansas,
when i could be a bone-dry Martini
instead of the one retching,
when i could be something like you,
the shoulder to lean on
and not the one reeling,
the one picking up eggshells
and never the one breaking.”
― melancholia in the milky way
“they say actions speak louder than words;
tell me why we swallow poetry
like it's some kind of cure.”
― melancholia in the milky way
tell me why we swallow poetry
like it's some kind of cure.”
― melancholia in the milky way
“sometimes i feel more like a house than a person
with the way i decorate my body and my face
to hide damaged walls and empty spaces;
my heart is more like a door with changed locks
because i've made multiple keys for people
who walked all over me with filthy shoes,
people who said they could live here,
but they were just passing through.
i hope my eyes are not windows,
because i fear what the world might see—
all of my flaws and insecurities on display
like a coffee table or some shoddy love seat.
sometimes i swear i left the oven on and forgot
because my mind feels like a smoke detector
with the way my apprehension never calms.
i smell smoke, but i can't see it;
i'm told things are never as bad as i make them,
but every wildfire starts with a spark
and it's easy to burn when you're a house made of straw.”
― melancholia in the milky way
with the way i decorate my body and my face
to hide damaged walls and empty spaces;
my heart is more like a door with changed locks
because i've made multiple keys for people
who walked all over me with filthy shoes,
people who said they could live here,
but they were just passing through.
i hope my eyes are not windows,
because i fear what the world might see—
all of my flaws and insecurities on display
like a coffee table or some shoddy love seat.
sometimes i swear i left the oven on and forgot
because my mind feels like a smoke detector
with the way my apprehension never calms.
i smell smoke, but i can't see it;
i'm told things are never as bad as i make them,
but every wildfire starts with a spark
and it's easy to burn when you're a house made of straw.”
― melancholia in the milky way
“i am something very gentle, very jealous
of the selfless way my heart pumps blood
for my ungrateful body,
of how the bones in my spine uplift my head,
despite how i insist we're crumbling,
we're crumbling,
always crying over spilled milk,
when i could be strong
like stainless steel or spider silk,
when i could be kevlar
instead of the honeycombed human
digging out bullets,
when i could be the tornado
instead of Dorothy missing Kansas,
when i could be a bone-dry Martini
instead of the one retching,
when i could be something like you,
the shoulder to lean on
and not the one reeling,
the one picking up eggshells
and never the one breaking.”
― melancholia in the milky way
of the selfless way my heart pumps blood
for my ungrateful body,
of how the bones in my spine uplift my head,
despite how i insist we're crumbling,
we're crumbling,
always crying over spilled milk,
when i could be strong
like stainless steel or spider silk,
when i could be kevlar
instead of the honeycombed human
digging out bullets,
when i could be the tornado
instead of Dorothy missing Kansas,
when i could be a bone-dry Martini
instead of the one retching,
when i could be something like you,
the shoulder to lean on
and not the one reeling,
the one picking up eggshells
and never the one breaking.”
― melancholia in the milky way
