Hold me here, where I feel less like a stranger to my own laughter. Where it’s easier to believe things happen for a reason or maybe, at least, out of a thousand winding roads my life might take, I will still find one that fits me.
SCHUYLERHold me here, where I feel less like a stranger to my own laughter. Where it’s easier to believe things happen for a reason or maybe, at least, out of a thousand winding roads my life might take, I will still find one that fits me.
SCHUYLERTake me back to the evergreen trees; to the sunlight through the leaves, the bending ferns and fronds. The pitter of the rain, the smooth rocks sleeping under moss. Take me back to the life I know before this body.
SCHUYLERI don’t want to be a saint, I want a love I don’t fight alone to keep.
SCHUYLERI never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.
SCHUYLERThe world will be loud again. I’ll notice the loneliness less.
SCHUYLERChange is not a four letter curse word I once believed it to be.
SCHUYLERPeople have been washed away by less. I’ll take every step gently. So often, you can’t tell the rush of a riptide until you’re already at sea.
SCHUYLERYes, this life is mine, but more often I watch it take place and my hands feel too far away to touch it.
SCHUYLERMy love lives in my cheeks – gives me away by the first smile. all the lines from years spent laughing, warm with extra freckles in the summer; a poker face that doesn’t keep once my knees fold.
SCHUYLERIf every feeling comes like a wave, I try to decide what kind of coastline I’ll become.
SCHUYLERSome mornings, I like to live like a secret; wake as quietly as I can, slip out of bed without so much as a wrinkle.
SCHUYLERI’d get lost in this green, ferns leaning against the trees, soil stuck to my feet, never dream of finding my way back again.
SCHUYLERI’m writing about moving again, and when I write about moving, I really mean beginning. I’m beginning again.
SCHUYLERI allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.
SCHUYLERWe’ve never seen what a happy life could look like if we chose to spend it by ourselves – sharing our beautiful lives with friends, family members, the occasional crush, and lounging out in that quiet space alone as if an idyllic sunned beach.
SCHUYLERIn a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.
SCHUYLER