When the grass turns brown nobody seems to care. It’s just temporary, they say yet I can feel it will stay and stay.
ZUZANNA SZOSTAKWe have to remember to do small things every single day and minute for sometimes love is simply not enough to fill our cup.
More Zuzanna Szostak Quotes
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I cried today and I cried yesterday, Salty tears rushing down. My face fastened breaths, palms in sweat and the unbearable guilt of my being.
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Hatred conquers the sea in which is growing thee them tiny pearls struggling a little trying to solve the final riddle.
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I can truly see myself in that light, the green iris of my eye like a jungle, full of life. And when snow covers the green, and my skin looses its color I crave that wilderness in my eye.
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For the most important type of love is love for oneself and only you can hear all of your beautiful verses that never got to see the light of the day.
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We laid in bed with our hands tied, talked about love and clear, summer skies.
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I can truly see myself in that light, the green iris of my eye like a jungle, full of life. And when snow covers the green, and my skin looses its color I crave that wilderness in my eye.
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And I try, I so try to fit everywhere, with everyone to be neutral, to be good and with all that, I lose myself. I lose the truest layer of all.
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I believed less is what I needed, what I tried to achieve; I thought less is more, better, the minimalistic beauty of life.
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How is it possible that with one stare I’m in flames and no fire extinguisher shall help me? and so here I stand a tree burning from inside out of love from you.
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Curled up in a ball slowly shutting down as my body is being devoured by those ugly, fearsome monsters that have lived in my guts ever since I could remember.
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No matter where we are, what air we breathe or which stars we are under. Your eyes always take me to dream land; that inner child-like peace of mind. That I crave when you’re gone and afar and I only see you when in my sleep.
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I don’t want to get down I want to get high. To stay high to fly high out of it.
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Yet now as we grow older why must we be frightened of being tranquil?
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Do you recognize your voice, the one that’s coming from your own mouth, when words are forming on your tongue?
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Would you want to breathe if you were to ask for oxygen? Would you want to drink if you were to beg for a glass of water? would you want to eat if you were to pray for a plate of food? Well, I wouldn’t.
ZUZANNA SZOSTAK