Format Quote

Let it go, you know,
that woman has never tucked you
into anything so safe as a bed.
She said, i love you,
but that’s not what she meant.
The cement in the bottom of your heart
means that sometimes you
sink faster than you swim,
but then again the brine
tastes better than tears,
better than all the fears
she read you as bedtime stories.
You’re a bad buoy but a good sailor,
a turn of tides that would
make a grown man weep
could he see how carefully you keep
your head above water.

am kennedy, “The anchor tattoo”
(via siilentiary)

Format Quote

Mariana, you may be the deepest trench,
but there is still life in you.
Whatever is resting in the pit of your chest is
foreign, strange,
but maybe this change is okay.

The pressure is crushing, relentless,
may we beg forgiveness for the conditions
in which you had to suffer.

Titanic, the way the pain drops,
oceanic, the way you swallow and swallow
and do not stop.

You cannot teach what you have learned,
and maybe now you must imagine the value
is in your belly, your heart, your throat,
the way you learned to sink and float.

Power in the lilac blue of your skin,
the tred of all that sticky sea foam,
you meet the land and sky and,
do not choke, do not choke.

am kennedy, “Mariana: broken bottle letters to the sea floor”

Format Quote

Let it go, you know,
that woman has never tucked you
into anything so safe as a bed.
She said, i love you,
but that’s not what she meant.
The cement in the bottom of your heart
means that sometimes you
sink faster than you swim,
but then again the brine
tastes better than tears,
better than all the fears
she read you as bedtime stories.
You’re a bad buoy but a good sailor,
a turn of tides that would
make a grown man weep
could he see how carefully you keep
your head above water.

am kennedy, “The anchor tattoo”

Format Quote

The door crashes in a thunder,
she walks with lightning legs,
sparking slither lines across the floor
like an oncoming storm.

He prays to a tempest, a Mount Olympus,
that their ceiling won’t crack,
the foundation will not flood,
that this will not be the
final oceanic downpour.

When the salty sea rises to his throat,
he holds his breath and his anchor,
and hopes to meet her down there
on the ocean floor.

am kennedy, “Sink or Swim”