Last night I thought I kissed the loneliness from out your belly button. I thought I did, but later you sat up, all bones and restless hands, and told me there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo. I never know what to say to these things. “It’s okay.” “Come back to bed.” “Please don’t go away again.” Sometimes you are gone for days at a time and it is all I can do not to call the police, file a missing person’s report, even though you are right there, still sleeping next to me in bed. But your eyes are like an empty house in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders. Except in this case I am the intruder and you are already locked up so tight that no one could possibly jimmy their way in. Last night I thought I gave you a reason not to be so sad when I held your body like a high note and we both trembled from the effort.
Some people, though, are sad against all reason, all sensibility, all love. I know better now. I know what to say to the things you admit to me in the dark, all bones and restless hands. “It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.” “Please come back to me again.
Unknown (via zubat)
you know what I don’t understand? Car Insurance. You are paying these people for the protection of knowing that if something happens to your car they’ll take of it. You’re paying these people a LOT of money. But the second something actually happens to your car, they raise your prices. Like what was the point of me paying you all this money when my car was fine for me to have just pay you MORE money the second something does happen to my car. Wouldn’t it just make more sense for you to take all that money you spend on insurance, save it in some bank account and then use that money if and when something happens to your car?