Andrea Gibson – "Boomerang Valentine"



I'm sitting on my friend's couch several months anything intentionally single and celibate for the first time since I was 20 years old 20 years old when I believe Sachs had to involve a dude and the word screw I'm telling my friend about the psychic who said I'm gonna meet the love of my life by the end of January its January 10th and I am so far from ready for Cupid that naked little to fire anything sharp my way so far from ready to be the kind of crazy only love makes me my friend musters every bit of New Age jargon she can fit onto her tongue and says what if you are the love of your life I think oh my god I hope that's not true cuz I am absolutely not my type but let's say for a moment I am let's say I am I dream girlish boyish girl and I'm standing on my front step ringing my own doorbell waiting for me to answer so I can hand myself a mason jar for the waterlilies I have rescued from a millionaire's Monet let's say I am so charmed for the radiance of my own anarchy I invite myself in for tea and when I'm not looking I sneak the steam from the kettle into my pocket so the next time I am missing the coast of Maine I can give myself the fog let's say I'm not just running my mouth around an oakley shade that says we gotta love ourselves we don't I know I can keep getting down on myself to them talk to my grave looking up at my name carved in stone wondering why I never knew I've been cast to the lead in my own life when it comes to love the only thing I'm certain of is you are the best thing that has ever happened to you whoever you are you reek Witter great there's plenty worth quitting a sore loser who isn't you got no discipline maybe discipline is for bodybuilders and closeted gay monks picture a magician so attached to be imperfect he cuts off his own legs just to pull off the trick picture the 738 selfies I deleted before I took one I was willing to show to the world picture me wishing I could have all of those back my floss and stacks like baseball cards I know we'll be worth something someday like tenderness like compassion like my capacity to think myself a cat just because I've never seen a chandelier I didn't want to swing from because I maybe go to space just to know if a railroad tracks look like zippers from the moon on days I have a hard time keeping warm in my own weather I imagine what the first flower said to the first human trying to name half its petals love me not snow that is not how anything grows of all the violence I've known in my life I've not known violence like the way I've spoken to myself and I've seen almost everyone around me hold that same belt to their own backs and ambush of every way we have decided we are not enough than looking for someone outside of ourselves to come clean that treason up if I were to ask myself out of that cycle I might say listen I am still going through my growth spurt I'm still yet to get my worst tattoo I am still clearing the smoke from burning the toast I wrote for my own wedding day I am still trying to get rid of my mirror face look myself dead in the eye I know Facebook is a lousy mortician desperately trying to make us all look more alive I know there were things I haven't survived I know there were people who have had to work to survive me I don't ever want to take that lightly but I want the heavy to anger me brave to anchor me loving to anger me in something that will absolutely hold me to my word when I tell Cupid I intend to keep walking out to the tip of his arrow to bend it back towards myself to aim for my goodness to the muscle in my chest pears than the stretch of becoming what I came here to be a lover of whatever got covered up but the airbrush the truth of me that beauty of the beast shooing to the leash till I get a mason jar for the water lilies and I got a kettle full of seed and my whole life y'all my whole life is just a boomerang Valentine coming right back at me thanks FL fun to read

45 thoughts on “Andrea Gibson – "Boomerang Valentine"

  1. Lyrics❣
    I’m sitting on my friends’ couch several months into being intentionally single and celibate for the first time since I was 20 years old
    20 years old: when I believed sex had to involve a dude and the word “screw”
    I’m telling my friend about the psychic who said I’m going to meet the love of my life by the end of January
    It’s January 10th and I’m so far from ready for Cupid, that naked little sh*t, to fire anything sharp my way

    So far from ready to be that kind of insane only love makes me
    My friend musters every bit of new age jargon she can fit unto her tongue
    and says, “What if you are the love of your life?”
    I think, “Oh my god, I hope that’s not true, because I am absolutely not my type”

    But, let’s say for a moment, I am
    Let’s say I am my dream girlish boy.
    And I am standing on my front step
    Ringing my own doorbell
    Waiting for me to answer, so I can hand myself a mason jar full of water lilies I have rescued from a millionaire’s Monet
    Let’s say, I am so charmed by the radiance of my own anarchy I invite myself in for tea

    And when I’m not looking, I sneak the steam from the kettle into my pocket, so that the next time I am missing the coast of Maine, I can gift myself the fog

    Let’s say I’m not just running my mouth around an old cliché that says we gotta love ourselves; we don’t
    I know that I can keep getting down on myself ‘til I’m tucked into the grave
    Looking up at my name, carved in stone, wondering why I never knew I’d been cast the lead in my own life

    When it comes to love, the only thing I’m certain of is you are the best thing that has ever happened to you.
    Whoever you are-
    You’re a quitter? Great, there is plenty worth quitting
    A sore loser? Who isn’t?
    You got no discipline? Maybe discipline is for body builders and closeted gay monks
    Picture a magician so attached to being perfect that he cuts off his own legs just to pull off the trick

    Picture the 738 selfies I deleted before I took one that I was willing to show to the world
    Picture me wishing I could have all of those back
    My so called “flaws” in stacks, like baseball cards I know will be worth something someday
    Like, compassion
    Like, tenderness
    Like, my capacity to think myself a catch just because I have never seen a chandelier I didn’t want to swing from
    because I would maybe go to space just to know if railroad tracks look like zippers from the moon

    On days I have hard time keeping warm in my own weather- I imagine what the first flower said to the first human, trying to name half its flower petals “love me not’s”

    No
    that is not how anything grows
    Of all the violence I have known in my life, I have not known violence like the way I have spoken to myself

    And I have seen almost everyone around me hold that same belt to their own backs
    An ambush of every way we have decided we are not enough
    Then, looking for someone outside of themselves to come clean that treason up
    If I were to ask myself out of that cycle, I might say, Listen,
    I am still going through my growth spurt.
    I am still yet to get my worst tattoo
    I am still clearing the smoke from burning the toast I wrote for my own wedding day
    I am still trying to get rid of my mirror face
    Look myself dead in the eye

    I know Facebook is a lousy mortician,
    desperately trying to make us all look more alive
    I know there are things I haven’t survived
    I know there are people in this world who have had to work really hard to survive
    Me, I don’t ever want to take that lightly.
    But, I want the heavy to anchor me brave
    to anchor me loving
    to anchor me in something that will absolutely hold me to my word
    When I tell Cupid I intend to keep walking out to the tip of his arrow
    To bend it back towards myself
    To aim for my goodness; 'til the muscle in my chest tears from the stretch of becoming
    When I came here to be a lover of whatever got covered up by the airbrush
    The truth of me: that beauty of a beast

    Chewing through the leash
    'Til I get a mason jar full of water lilies
    I got a kettle full of sea
    And my whole life, y'all, my whole life is just a boomerang valentine; coming right back at me

  2. “I’ve not know violence like the way I speak to myself…”
    Damn

  3. "I know there are people who have had to work to survive me, and I dont ever wanna take that lightly."

  4. 4:19 I am smiling
    4:20 I close my eyes, I am froze
    4:21 I sigh; in disbelief, in relief
    4:22 A million memories of abusing myself starts seething on the screen of my mind
    4:27 The anguish starts trickling down silently…..

    Today was a day, "I was having a hard time keeping warm in my own weather." Thank you for being "The mason jar full of water lilies" freeing me from "the violence like I have spoken to my self." Now I'll make my self a "Kettle full of sea" and my life "A boomerang Valentine, coming right back at me."❤❤

  5. This is my favorite of Andrea’s … this is the most solid truth. 🙏🏻

  6. I’m sitting on my friends’ couch several months into being intentionally single and celibate for the first time since I was 20 years old
    20 years old: when I believed sex had to involve a dude and the word “screw”
    I’m telling my friend about the psychic who said I’m going to meet the love of my life by the end of January
    It’s January 10th and I’m so far from ready for cupid, that naked little shit, to fire anything sharp my way

    So far from ready for that kind of insane only love makes me
    My friend musters every bit of new age jargon she can fit into her tongue
    and says, “What if you are the love of your life?”
    I think, “Oh my god, I hope that’s not true, because I am absolutely not my type”

    But, let’s say for a moment, I am
    Let’s say I am my dream girl… And boy.
    And I am standing on my front step
    Ringing my own doorbell
    Waiting for me to answer, so I can hand myself a mason jar full of water lilies I have rescued from a millionaire’s Monet
    Let’s say, I am so charmed by the radiance of my own anarchy I invite myself in for tea
    And when I’m not looking, I sneak the steam from the kettle into my pocket, so that the next time I am missing the coast of Maine, I can gift myself the fog

    Let’s say I’m not just running my mouth around an old cliché that says we gotta love ourselves; we don’t
    I know that I can keep getting down on myself ‘til I’m tucked into the grave
    Looking up at my name, carved into stone, wondering why I never knew I’d been cast the lead in my own life

    Y'all, when it comes to love, the only thing I’m certain of is you are the best thing that has ever happened to you..
    Whoever you are-
    You’re a quitter? Great, there is plenty worth quitting
    A sore loser? Who isn’t?
    You got no discipline? Maybe discipline is for body builders and closeted gay monks
    Picture a magician so attached to being perfect that he cuts off his own legs just to pull off the trick

    Picture the 738 selfies I deleted before I took one that I was willing to show to the world
    Picture me wishing I could have all of them back
    My so called “flaws” in stacks, like baseball cards I know will be worth something someday
    Like, compassion
    Like, tenderness
    Like, my capacity to think myself a catch just because I have never seen a chandler I didn’t want to swing from
    because I would maybe go to space just to know if railroad tracks look like zippers from the moon

    On days I have hard time keeping warm in my own weather- I imagine what the first flower said to the first human, trying to name half its flower petals “love me not’s”

    No
    that is not how anything grows
    Of all the violence I have known in my life, I have not known violence like the way I have spoken to myself

    And I have seen almost everyone around me hold that same belt to their own backs
    Then, looking for someone outside of themselves to come clean that treason up
    If I were to ask myself out of that cycle, I might say, Listen,
    I am still going through a growth spurt.
    I am still yet to get my worst tattoo
    I am still clearing the smoke from burning the toast I wrote for my own wedding day
    I am still trying to get rid of my mirror face
    Look myself, dead in the eye

    I know Facebook is a lousy mortician,
    desperately trying to make us all look more alive
    I know there are things I haven’t survived
    I know there are people in this world who have had to work really hard to survive
    Me, I don’t ever want to take that lightly.
    But, I want the heavy to anchor me brave
    to anchor me loving
    to anchor me in something that will absolutely hold me to my word
    When I tell cupid I intend to keep walking out to the tip of his arrow
    To bend it back towards myself
    To aim for my goodness; until the muscle in my chest tears from the stretching of becoming
    When I came here to be a lover of whatever got covered up by the airbrush
    The truth of me: That beauty of a beast

    Chewing through the leash
    'Til I get a mason jar full of water lilies
    I got a kettle full of sea
    And my whole life, y'all, my whole life is just a boomerang valentine; coming right back at me

  7. “Of all the violance that I’ve known in my life I’ve not known violance like the way I’ve spoken to myself”….

  8. I'm crying so much, this is amazing – and exactly what I needed right now… exactly what I needed

  9. Only those that have not heard poets believe that actions speak louder than words.

  10. Button poetry, Andrea (or Andrew? Sorry I'm not sure) who ever, if anyone from your team reads this I want you to know how much of an impact it has on people. Today has been such a hard day and this made me feel like I'm going to be ok. So thank you Andrea (Andrew?) your amazing and I hope you never stop writing. Those baseball cards of yours give me joy. ❤️ Thank you so much button poetry!

  11. I have the feeling that Andrea Gibson always finds the rights words to hit something inside of me I never knew could be touched with a gentle hand

  12. I lose it when you say "Of all the violence I've seen in my life, I've not known violence like the way I've spoken to myself" and from then out it's unreal how deep it hits.

  13. This made me sob. I don't know how to see myself as you describe. Amazing. I'll be listening to this again. 👍❤

  14. That's what I want even though i'm 11 I want that some day that's my goal when another teacher assigns me a paper about what I want to be or do someday this is it

  15. That was an incredible experience. Self love is so hard sometimes but Andrea captured it beautifully. I love this so much.

  16. Wow, I needed this poem right now. Love, Andrea, always have. ❤❤❤❤

  17. I think this might be my favorite poem of Andrew.

    On days I have a hard time keeping warm in my own weather, I imagine what the first flower said to the first human trying to name half its petals “love me nots” – no, that is not how anything grows. 💛🌷

    So much magic. Thank you for this.

  18. they're just so wow amazing words honestly won't do justice to their works but they truly are something else thank you so much Andrea for your work

  19. The way I screamed after listening to this work of magic!!!!

    thank you
    thank you
    thank you
    going to be listening to this art for years to come honey

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