This is the numbness you feel right after a breakup. It’s the frozen terror you feel when you receive bad news. It’s the shock that hasn’t worn off a tragedy. The liminal space is the unprocessed aftermath of trauma. It is emotional limbo. It's the pause between pain and progress, between epiphany a…
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Quotes tagged ‘poetic prose’
Then the men we try to love, say we carry too much loss, wear too much black, are too heavy to be around, much too sad to love. Then they leave and we mourn them too. Is that what we’re here for? To sit at kitchen tables, counting on our fingers the ones who died, those who left and the others who w…
you can't make homes out of human beings someone should have already told you that and if he wants to leave then let him leave you are terrifying and strange and beautiful something not everyone knows how to love.
his teeth ache with memory of taste his body just a long shadow seeking yours but you are always too intense frightening in the way you want him unashamed and sacrificial he tells you that no man can live up to the one who lives in your head
The heart is resilient, I mean literally. When a body is burned, the heart is the last organ to oxidize. While the rest of the body can catch flame like a polyester sheet on campfire, it takes hours to burn the heart to ash.
She is untamed. She is the wild. She will come to you like a storm and wash you of your fears. And then when she leaves, you will wonder how you ever hated the rain.
I am your protectress. I am your warrioress. I am your deepest power. I am your fragility. I am all that you fear in yourself.
At the end of the day, we’re all in charge of what we bring to our lives. So be the person who brings light to your own, even if nobody else shows up to it. Be the person who has a good day, even if nobody wishes it to them. Find a way to fuel your flame when no one else remembers to, because the wo…
Know that we have met before and that we will meet again. I will find my way to you in the next life, and every life after that.
Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent as a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder.
A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, god damnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.
She said, ‘You cannot hide forever, though you may try. I’ve seen you in the kitchen, in the garden. I’ve seen the things you have sewn – curtains of dawn, twilight blankets and dresses for the sisters like a garden of stars. I have heard the stories you tell. You are the one who transforms, who cre…
But the woman came to her then. The woman with hair of red like roses, hair of white like snowfall. She was young and old. She was blind and could see everything. She spoke softly, in whispers, but her voice carried across the mountain ranges like sleeping giants, the cities lit like fairies and the…
when creating. be kind to your doubt. hear it out. thank it for its concern. and reassure it that you are an artist. and risk is essential.