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Love me until oblivion paints your portraits on my eyelids, sinking by eons into distance that never separates us.

Stephanie Briar

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Distance Eyes Love Myself Painting Portrait Relationship Separate

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We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Ourselves Stars Writing
The pain of your memory is sharp enough to be felt the nails raked along my back by somebody else.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Enough Memories Myself Pain Yourself
When you focus on directing your energy away from harm and toward healing, you feed the soul and starve the ego.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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I fall headlong into everything that lights me on fire. I know not of restraint. I was born to burn.
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You are what it feels like to watch the final silvers of sun fall and die into the silver ocean; tangerine sky giving way to moon-glow and starlight.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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Do I look as good as I remember, Looking back at you from over my shoulder, smug as the devil?
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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

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Trauma has deep roots indeed, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pull the weeds.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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Can hope bloom in the shade? Can time give back what it takes away? I once saw the answers to life in your eyes; now I can remember the words to goodbye.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Bloom Eyes Hope Life Lost Myself Philosophy Relationship Remember Return Time Word
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
I pressed the dress to my nose, and found what was left of your ghost. It was then that I remembered how to cry.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Clothes Cry Ghost Myself Remember
Stop accepting abstract noun love. Real love is always action verb.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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Emotion = Energy in motion.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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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

Body Devotion Dreams Myself Name Park Past Relationship Religious Sex Worship Yourself

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