It wasn’t enough fading under surfaces, below waves, swollen pufferfish retracting this inflated love that not even you could believe in.
HANNAH PEARLI’ve been afraid to look at the woman in the mirror. Everyday she looks less and less like me. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever find my way back home.
More Hannah Pearl Quotes
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Caution! This vehicle stops quite frequently when overwhelmed.
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Love is believable. I reckon I’ll just see it when I see it.
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You are worthy of feeling incredibly and unapologetically alive.
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What a shame – how the taste of you could rot even the cedar and cypress. How you fooled the redwood into believing narcissus’ pond was made for two.
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I miss you a little less each day. You’re just a faded memory now – delicate; tucked away.
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My god is a moment, a whimsical idea, a whisper. A hope bending itself into a prayer.
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Indigo child, you hid secret under graves, picked at the lamb stuck between teeth, felt around for monsters we once reaped. But the monster turned out to be free.
HANNAH PEARL -
There’s a mystery in you; a puzzle to solve- mystical elements to a love that you’ve longingly ached for.
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When words tripped off the side of your grin, I felt the statement slip toward my ear like the slide of a skateboard on griptape – how it led me to hate a sport I’ve never even tried.
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You ever stare at something so long the colors blend together? Even the most neutral tones take on a life of their own, fold themselves into shapes that morph into creatures – wolves and goblin.
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I am hurting. I am angry. I am one hundred and thirty-two synonyms of regret, but atleast its proof that I was here.
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I hide behind olive branches. So afraid of others knowing what lay beneath the broken rifle. The reality hitting the pavement like bullets that stem from war.
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I wait and wait and wait and god I am sick of waiting. To not see your face anymore. To not know the burden that belongs to you. To not imagine the window I looked through the night I found out.
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I’m from a state that houses too many cornfields and a town that no one takes seriously- in a home where glass cuts hurt less than deeply wounded words.
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I haven’t wept for days, only shuffling feet, carrying weights, ignoring the pain, numbing the face. Its all a charade.
HANNAH PEARL