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He’ll keep some daying and tommorwing until he has no tomorrows left. I don’t choose that.

Stephanie Briar

Related Topics

Choice Himself Relationship Self Love

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He’ll keep some daying and tommorwing until he has no tomorrows left. I don’t choose that.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Choice Himself Relationship Self Love
Our memories lurch to a reluctant halt in their funeral march, so I can pour salt over them one last time.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Death Funeral Memories Oneself Time
Trauma has deep roots indeed, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pull the weeds.
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Do I look as good as I remember, Looking back at you from over my shoulder, smug as the devil?
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I don’t know how to put my love down, or to keep holding too much of it.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Abundance Control Hold On Love Myself
In my dreams we got past the parking lot; you took me past the old, oak door, led me up onto the vacant altar, and offered me to every god whose name you invoked as you worshipped my body.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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If we are what we love, Then I am whatever you are made of.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Love Myself Relationship Yourself
I count the stars from whence we came. I name them all for you; my flame.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Count Dedication Myself Name Relationship Stars Yourself
“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Eyes Ourselves Relationship Thinking Time
In the absence of you I look to the moon and pray that the stars light my way, too.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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Let yourself go a little wild, a little rough around through the edges; the human spirit wasn’t meant for carefully-curated perfection.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Human Perfection Rough Spirit Wild Yourself
The search for external sources is nothing compared to internal forces.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Compare Force Search Worth
Anxiety is living with an apple on your head and you imagine that everyone you know stands watching with a bow to shoot an arrow at it.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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I would throw down roots with you if I ever had the chance. We’d grow strong in tender shoots, and bloom in burning hands.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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The day I made peace with my pain was the day I was born again.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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As if flesh and skin and hands are any match for bullets. As if bones won’t crack in hails of powder and lead. As if rivers of blood are not the direct result of trigger fingers that bend but do not break on “bad days”.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Bad Blood Bone Break Day Direction Fingers Leadership Power Result River Skin

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