“I am a broken bell jar. I am Plath preheating the oven. I am all the things I once feared. Mostly, I am nothing.”— Anonymous, speaking-secrets.tumblr.com
“She might be your type. But I'm the exact font. I am outside your window. Throw down your hair. I mean the hair you pulled from the drain when you were cleaning your tub. I want everything you have ever tried to wash away. The first time you were bullied in junior high. The last time you blushed fro…”— Andrea Gibson, amazon.com
“All the cows were falling out of the sky and landing in the mud. You were drinking sangria and I was throwing oranges at you, but it didn't matter. I said my arms are very long and your head's on fire. I said kiss me here and here and here and you did.”— Richard Siken, amazon.com
“My skin wears winter so well - I liberated anonymity from my fingers the moment it asked and still, the cold slept quietly beneath my palms.”— Orooj-e-Zafar, sulacollective.com
“Remember that you were art long before he came to admire you, and you’ll continue to be art even when he’s gone. A masterpiece is still a masterpiece even when the lights are off and the room is empty.”— Charlotte Geier, elfwood.com
“Close your eyes and picture the sun. That's what it felt like to love her: warmth.”— Atticus, atticuspoetry.tumblr.com
“Here's a list of things to remember: Time heals. Mountain winds sound exactly like ocean waves. You are worth everything now. Walls can be destroyed. The sun always rises (and is always beautiful). Children know the answers. Trees can grow through rock. There is music in everything – like rain on ci…”— Victoria Erickson, rebellesociety.com
“there is a forbidden drawer in my nightstand but instead of handcuffs, there’s kisses. and caresses. and soft, soft hands.”— Jones Howell, joneshowell.com
“I love to kiss the pictures in your skin. They’ll last until you’re seared to ashes; whatever persists or turns to pain between us, they will still be there. Such permanence is terrifying.”— Kim Addonizio, amazon.com
“You don't need another human being to make your life complete, but let's be honest, having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn't see them as disasters in your soul, but cracks to put their love into, is the most calming thing in this world.”— Emery Allen, goodreads.com
“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.”— Kait Rokowski, goodreads.com
“Nothing is plumb, level, or square: the studs are bowed, the joists are shaky by nature, no piece fits any other piece without a gap or pinch, and bent nails dance all over the surfacing like maggots. By Christ I am no carpenter. I built the roof for myself, the walls for myself, the floors for myse…”— Alan Dugan, poetryfoundation.org
“Poems amount to so little when you write them too early in your life. You ought to wait and gather sense and sweetness for a whole lifetime, and a long one if possible, and then, at the very end, you might perhaps be able to write ten good lines.”— Rainer Maria Rilke, amazon.com
“Metaphor is the very substance of poetry. Without it there would have been no bridge whereby to cross from the minor truth of the seen to the major truth of the unseen.”— Ernest Fenollosa, amazon.com
“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.”— Kait Rokowski, chrissystockton.com
“Being an artist means forever healing your own wounds and at the same time endlessly exposing them.”— Annette Messager, goodreads.com
“True poetry is what which has lost all the distinctive signs of poetry. If poetry exists, it is anywhere but in poetry.”— Jean Baudrillard, amazon.com