“I used to only pick up a pen for myself but now I pick one up for you too. Is there such a thing as an unselfish love poem? I don’t know, but I’m trying.”

That sadness that you do not speak of, that haunts you in the ache of midnight. Give it to me, I want to heal that.

To my children, I will say, ‘Fill your skin with kindness and find solace in your solitude. It takes bravery to be kind. But to be brave you will need to know how to stand for something even if you are completely alone.

There is nothing more dangerous than a girl who is aware of the flames inside her, and all the damage she can do.

The greatest magic you have is the courage you go digging for, when your world falls apart, the light you still hold, when everything has grown dark.

Take this as your reminder. Not all heroes wear capes. Some wear darkness, some wear wounds.

She is unpredictable, and unpredictable is another word for ‘threat’ when a woman wears it well.

I hope our daughters are born with so much fire in their souls, they could put volcanoes and stars to shame.

Why be a half-finished poem in some forgotten poet’s story, when one can be an odyssey in and of herself, part magic, part villain, part Goddess, part lover.

My darling, he is just a boy. How can he possibly begin to appreciate the constellations you leave in your wake, or the stardust in your bones, when he has yet to realize just what it means to be in love with a girl like you?

Sometimes you are going to miss a person who was an almost to you. And feel sad because there is no name for that feeling. You just feel it in a way that makes you tired to your very bones.

Heroes are never born fearless. They become heroes by facing their fears, by meeting them head on and saying, ‘You do not control me, or own me anymore.

what a perfect collision of star it was that came together at just the right moment at just the right time to build the incredible thing that is you.

The ghosts of all the women you used to be are all so proud of who you have become, storm child made of wild and flame.

Do not disregard or hate the maps on your skin and soul. These scars have never diminished your worth, they are the stories that make you whole.

Did you really think she was a tender flower you could trample upon, and damage her very soul? She is wildfire. And she is coming to devour you whole.

As leaves cover the forest floor in a carpet of vibrant rusts, orange and gold, autumn proves that sometimes death too can be a beautiful thing.