“All I wanted was to be held by you, thank you for setting me free.”

This longing breaks me. Rips my heart open and kills me. Your loss takes out even the worst of me. Your absence will be the death of me.

Somedays, I’m an overflowing fountain, a chaotic ocean or an untamed river. But even on the hard days, kindness is a possibility I always choose.

I’ve never been much of a dancer. But healing is a song I’ve been learning to dance on.

I stopped complaining about things I didn’t have, and poured gratitude for what I did. Life became lighter and more fulfilling. Desire didn’t hold onto me like it earlier did. Happiness filled in like light, and life started to feel like a blessing.

Everyday is a discovery of the person I am becoming, or I always was, but only now realizing.

You are a miracle. Every essence of you is magic. On days you doubt yourself, I hope you know, the universe resides in you.

I keep you in my heart, like a dream unfulfilled. Like an incomplete wish. Like something I can crave but never have. Ever since the beginning of time, what has love been anyway? if not longing or heartbreak?

Aren’t all poets born from tragedy?

You are a nameless prayer, my heart begs to be brought again to existence.

I have inherited my fathers rage and my mothers silence. Everyday is a survival. I am a fire burning, just invisible.

Brown daughters are just fragile glass houses always on the verge of shattering.

I believe we all deserve good endings. We were kind people before this world turned us cruel.

They said everything I lost will come back to me. I said -everything I’ve lost is too lost to ever come back to Me.

My love isn’t love. It is devotion. I don’t fall in love, I shatter. I don’t love, I worship.

I’ve been so hurt. Just love me enough that my heart heals and all my scars worship your name.

Even when the blood in my veins is the same as them, every cell in my body is against becoming like them. What a curse it is to hate the very thing that birth you.

If for the sake of a crowded audience you do wish to hold a lecture, your ambition is no laudable one, and at least avoid all citations from the poets, for to quote them argues feeble industry.

Human beings seem to hold on more tenaciously to a cultural identity that is learned through suffering than to one that has been acquired through pleasure and delight.

My today’s self perpetually slips out of any hold of it that I may try to take.

President Joe Biden is unfit to hold the office of the Presidency. His pattern of abuse of power as President Obama’s Vice President is lengthy and disturbing.

One of the great cosmic laws, I think, is that whatever we hold in our thought will come true in our experience.

In this state of absorbed contemplation, there is no longer any question of holding an object in view.

People who have no hold over their process of thinking are likely to be ruined by liberty of thought. If thought is immature, liberty of thought becomes a method of converting men into animals.

This is not just a stock of affects or pleasure, but also the possibility of playing double or quits with the share you hold in the other’s heart.