I spill words among pages so that I can’t say my thoughts are stuck in cages. Can’t say I didn’t let it out when I can say for sure I wrote it down.
RENEE STONEI can’t take it all in or else I’ll grow cold when the heat already escapes my fingers and toes.
More Renee Stone Quotes
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To be understood is to be on part of the path to inclusivity.
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My body is a field site of muscle memory and weathered bones.
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Flowers crown her with thorns, keeping her mind entrapped in a garden of lies – guarding her mind.
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I want to tell them how tired I am because I don’t think it shows. But maybe it’s the same for them – all strangers to the weight each of us carries. So alone, we carry these loads.
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When you and the world are out of breath, take the steps to ensure your own needs are met. By the moment you know someone can’t on their own, you’ll hopefully be ready to help.
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Reading has always been my sweetest escape, but I write to convey that which I want to escape or what scares me to say, even if it’s something positive.
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Imagine the unknown of what the beings around you cover up and struggle with everyday.
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When you write me into your story, don’t set my end in stone. Feel free to let me go. I’d like to join your story, but remember I have my own.
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We’re so distant, words can’t save us.
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I wish you could feel it when it’s dark at night, and I think of you when I pass the streetlights. But I know you feel the care without me being there.
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When the silence fades and now sounds begin to bloom, I will grow to feel calm again. Healthily this time.
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And I saw forever in your eyes ’til the sunset started to dim your light. You told me you’d always hold me tight, but your warmth faded with the bright.
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Body and mind aren’t separated. And so all these things I write, they are felt in the aches of my heart.
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They tell me summer is coming, and soon we’ll be dancing on the shore. Waiting for the moonlight to light me up amongst the starlight.
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I can assure you that I don’t wake up every day with a smile upon my face, and the distance from happiness in the morning isn’t set at a constant rate.
RENEE STONE