“I am tired of only being loved in theory.”

Self Love is just me loving you in reverse.

The last person I adored made me cry and then tenderly wiped the tears off my face. It was the only lesson that taught me; you can love someone and still do horrible, cruel things to them.

We romanticize trauma so much that we have stopped trying to prevent it and started smiling at all the scars it leaves.

Healing can look a lot like violence.

Can we just pretend we are wanted?

It is terrifying to wonder whether that person you love is a walking red flag or a white flag of surrender dipped in your own blood.

Her body is a undiscovered country and she is afraid that someone will colonize it and expect her to thank them for the wreckage.

You are something I am trying to love; Not something I am trying to survive.

When will I realize the absence of hate is not love?

I tell the boy in my class that no means no and he laughs in my face – says no means change my mind.

Loving you and leaving you taste the same in the mouth?

Women like me bleed on command.

This body belongs to all those who live in it.

The only difference between a mother and her daughter is how long they’ve lived with the trauma.

I never wanted to be so alone that all I have is you.

Did our fathers create silence or is it that what makes them our fathers?

All along this path I tread, my heart betrays my weary head, with nothing but my love to save, from the cradle to the grave.

In some sad truth, I’ll always want more of you.

You can’t measure, my love for you. I’m a victor. I steal you, from my very own self, every minute every day.

Have Love. Not love alone for one, but man as man they brother call; and scatter like the circling sun thy charities on all.

You are the love of your life.

I fell in love, not with anything or anybody in particular but with everything.

I’m a person that carries everything that happened to me in my past, with me into the future. I refuse to let it make me bitter. I still completely believe in love and I remain open to anything that will happen to me.

I started painting the touch of your voice, and ended up writing a love song.