You break everything you touch. Why was I surprised when you broke me too?
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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Underneath the stars, the weight of living dissolves – releases, breathes, be.
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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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My mind is not my own. I don’t recognize her when I am alone.
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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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Lavender lullabies whispered into night skies, remnants of galaxies cradled closely, as you sleep sweetly, time slips away and so do I.
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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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Fireside and free, tangled up in curiosity, dripping in holy honesty, drawing in pure ecstasy, exploring possibilities – a cabin in the woods.
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I lace barbed wire around my heart, constrict it – pull tight, maybe the pain will make it feel alive, and I can pretend it didn’t already die.
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I simply cannot hold onto hope, it aches like possibilities never reached, I’m bubbling over with grief – this chaos has caused so much loss and fatigue.
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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.
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Those closest to me. Didn’t know the true state of my mentality.
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I am fierce yet fragile – cradle me with care, I can shred your soul, light you on fire, or send you into the dark abyss – the difference between us is – I wouldn’t dare.
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You were refreshing. Your idea of love infused me with hope and joy.
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Cider and candor and cranberry kisses, firelight dancing – lowered inhibitions, our eyes caught up in intimate moments, soaking in these cinnamon-spiced secrets.
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I hear your voice say my name and my soul melts slow, I’m a helpless mess.
JESSICA WILDE