"On a mode of dust suspended in a sunbeam " ~ Carl Sagan
The moon stands there like an anchor, reminding us that not everything is chaos
"They are doing their best. Today their best may not be that great, but I have days where mine isn’t the best too." ~Katya
The actions of human beings should be studied at the speeds of human beings.
Everyone is seen under the sun, not everyone is seen in the moon.
"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." ~ Jane Austen, Emma
Hearts as puckered as the vinegar sea slugs you’re frenching under the bleachers.
That’s cute. If you find me parting my hair with a machete, that’s the reason.
Public platforms for dysfunctional families [weddings].
It’s crazy how we live our lives, resplendent in borrowed time.
You are softer than you were before they came, you have been loved.
All the love soaked people.
It’s ok if you only save one person, and it’s doubly ok if that one person is you.
"Boys can be poison and still be rose scented" ~ Noah Cyrus
Your victory is that we believe your magic is true and tangible [referring to art].
Oh how, like always, he invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him [in a good way, not a creepy one].
Waiting to thaw out, to wake up, to live.
"I wanted someone who would be so easily addicted to my help." ~ Whitney Cummings
"The whole is a mass of fools and knaves" ~ Hamilton
I meet you at the start of each dream.
"I miss you even more than I could have believed, and I was prepared to miss you a good deal." ~ Vita Sackville-West
He sighs with fear.
I draw out the poison, the sticky dense tar that binds him.
I love him on purpose.
He left my heart open, and now it feels too much
Borrow romance in $10 bunches of roses.
"We buried alive, something that never died." ~ Conan Gray
Without my attachment, he was ordinary.
Steal the breath from my lungs and I’ll breathe so you can do it again.
"Please forget your scarf in my life" ~ Mikki Harvey
Sell me a page in your journal and I'll bleed ink until I run dry.
I split your world right in half so I could form my own.
These symptoms of humanity hide in our moments of intimacy.
I want him to fall in love with the version I see of him in every picture, rose tinted in every memory.
You got caught in a dance… making a memory, breathing a dream.
"I want to go to sleep forever, where there’s a chance I dream everything beautiful about you." ~ Adam Silvera
The milk’s still cold, but all the locks have forgotten my key.
I want something longer than an hour, but shorter than forever because forever means I have to get over the fear that I would lose you.
I’ll wrap you in all of my time. Not because you need me, but because I can’t imagine what I’d do without you in it.
Let’s keep this short, I have a date with the version of you that lives in my head.
I needed the idea of you more than I will ever want your reality.
I’ve seen you in every book, on every TV show, and in countless posts, but none of them could have taught me what it was like to spend a moment with you.
My love songs are to the idea of you and him and them, but never for you or them. I stopped singing to you long ago when I realized you’d never hear me.
You’ve seen the scars on my body come and fade .
My body anew, spackled over the all the places I carved out my old identity to make room for them.
They are me, just as he was, but the pain he brought is a memory of my visage—a secret no mirror would give up to you anymore.
I want to play your reactions to a million bad things to watch the way your warmth overcomes lifetimes of pain others could not.
You make me want to sell everything so I have nothing left for you to take, nothing you could possibly break or sully or care for.
The way you communicate your silence to me makes me think you have never been quieted, and I envy your volume.
What’s more believable, that I would break every law in his name or that he could remain the same person I feel for without the pain he puts out into the world.
I couldn’t ruin someone as commonplace as me.
I wouldn’t ruin someone as perfect as him with the thought of marriage; spoil his soft head with thoughts of until death, or make carious piles of his dreams into the guise of a hearth.
When he compared our love to the heavens where the stars shine for eternities in each other’s presence, I knew the lifetime his words promised was a thin veil for the silent screams of a lover in name only… one who cannot escape.
He didn’t leave because I questioned his lies, he left because I stopped.
You asked me where as if mapping the kisses of your knife would do anything to replace the blood I spilt in your name.
I want the feeling of infinitude from the security of arms that never promised to hold me but do so anyways, to spite fate and displease those that call their echos the answer.
I want a beautiful haunt that doesn’t collect fare in blood soaked memories.
My nightmares are bespoke in the tattered remains of my my feelings for him.
You’ve created the illusion of giving so that no one would complain when you took beyond your due.
I want to mark all the places his hands graced my skin so that when I wake in the night, I have proof that it wasn’t just a dream.
Mortality has always smelled like the next big idea; something ephemeral and pungent, reeking of horrors yet unknown.
My question at the pearly gates is whether the recursive paradise of its denizens dream’s traces a line or a circle.
I have the privilege of a devil that speaks slowly, and the misfortune of having lost his language.
The most comfortable lie I own is that seeing me means you know me. I do not contain multitudes, just a sticky tar I cannot let you see.
My blade lies flat on the ground, only to hurt those who drag their feet.
Often I confuse people, because I love completely and wholly indifferently.
You make me want to mean every cliché.
My nothing is something I can’t give, but I desperately want you to take.
I want to live a life where an echo is the happiest of answers; surrounded not by parrots, but lost in a tunnel or engulfed in the iron wood.
Apples of all ages fall from unstable trees, their only hope is that they have a hill to take them far away from the sprawl of their former insanity.
I’ve spent a lifetime playing off my echo for answers.
I fail everyday to find myself, somehow that failure is me and I cannot decipher its provenience.
I’ve lied myself into thinking that smiling is the same as being happy.
Tableau of an unsuspecting muse, he who thinks fortune mirrors his spirit in every painting and every part.
I spent years becoming anew, yet every new thing was me and never more interesting than the fantasy behind my eyes.
The only people who can truly start their life anew are psychopaths or people who never lived in it to begin with.
"I felt like there was no point in telling anyone anything that was happening inside me." ~ Christa Wolf.
What hubris, that the gods you choose to worship by chance could choose you in a moment of need.
I watched the clock till seconds were meaningless and my whim could drive the hands akimbo.
For all that want I’m still desperately clinging to the tails of fireworks, artifacted from dreams and visions that are see-through in the daylight.
I don’t know, quite yet, what makes me human, but for the first time I’m interested in finding out.
In my delusion, I so easily interpreted his silence as a demand for power over me.
I was fortunate for the life I was born into, and benefited from little jabs while I was growing up, but the thing about those little jabs is they reshape you, rarely breaking, into their image regardless of your fortune.
I can’t help but wonder when I took over as jailor and when society put down its boxing gloves because it saw that I would hit harder and more accurately at my soft parts than it ever could.
My life has given torrential meaning to all the songs I breathed growing up .
Your love has given torrential meaning to all the songs I soaked in during my youth.
I want to believe that it hurts because I care, but I’m not sure that’s even possible anymore.
I’ll tell you word for word exactly what I’m thinking, but I’ll tell you what I’m feeling over my cold dead body.
I want you to tell me every one of your wishes so the universe can’t laugh when they’re pulled from under your feet.
My eyes remember your silhouette like a warning.
"I’d call you an angel, but you’re so much more interesting." ~ Leigh Bardugo
Fated to live an eternity without being able to point to where I ended.
The decent to hell is rarely a private one.
I want to love you periodically, not to deprive you, but so I can relish loving you all over again in your new skin.
I’d count every hair on his head just to get to know him better.