Lavender lullabies whispered into night skies, remnants of galaxies cradled closely, as you sleep sweetly, time slips away and so do I.
JESSICA WILDEWhen winter withers – my bones begin to thaw, my lungs crackle as they expand, and the blood in my veins start to flow and I awaken from hibernation – hungry for happiness and eager to let go.
More Jessica Wilde Quotes
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When rules don’t make sense, ask questions, break barriers, rise above it all.
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Here I am again, chasing shadows, as if I’m peter pan convincing Wendy not to grow up – I’m waiting for you in the between place. Dreaming and never quite awake.
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Today, cold seeps from my insides out, the frigid rain warm on my skin.
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The sea calls to me – she promises to set me free, it’s tempting- losing myself in her vastness allowing her to swallow me whole, beckoning me to make her deep darkness my forever home.
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What do you do, when all the loves you’ve ever known have only been paper moons?
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My mind is not my own. I don’t recognize her when I am alone.
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I chip and carve until I’m a corpse – a bone with no marrow, or a sparrow without wings, a vein without wings, a vein without blood, a puppet with no strings.
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Your laughter sounds like a galactic symphony, your eyes shine magic like Saturn’s rings, and your golden hair flares like the sun. I smile as I rock the universe to sleep and sing of stars that twinkle deep within your dreams.
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I hear your voice say my name and my soul melts slow, I’m a helpless mess.
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I know I haven’t told you, but I also know, that you’ve felt my love.
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I’m half agony, half hope – like I’m a freshly cut bone, like the last stone that was held – then not thrown, like a garden where inspiration roots but never grows.
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I am swept beneath your current – it pulls me in, and I don’t even try to swim.
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Underneath the stars, the weight of living dissolves – releases, breathes, be.
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Wouldn’t it be enchanting if pixie dust and fairy wings could fix all our broken dreams?
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Lost journals are steps back home, like the mending of broken bones, like scars that act as patches to my soul, like the measurement marks on my mother’s wall that show just how much I’ve grown.
JESSICA WILDE