black
grey
blue
red
brown
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But it was now time for her to go away-to find someone who could show her what happiness was.

Lang Leav

In a sea of strangers, you’ve longed to know me. Your life spent sailing to my shores.
LANG LEAV

Known Life Sailing Sea Shore Stranger
Strange how it mattered so much, when now it matters so little.
LANG LEAV

Important Strange Value
That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.
LANG LEAV

Hands Oneself Sacred Writing
But if you don’t love my every flaw, then you mustn’t love me- not at all.
LANG LEAV

Flaws Love Myself
And you said ecstasy was a storm cloud, just before the rain would burst into the night sky, like a thousand aquatic stars-and not one single moment before.
LANG LEAV

Burst Cloud Moments Oneself Rain Storm
We had no ending, no said goodbye. For all my life, I’ll wonder why.
LANG LEAV

Ending Life Myself Wonder
I wish I could put a pen in your hand and gently remind you how the world has given you poetry and now you must give it back.
LANG LEAV

Hands Poetry Reminder Yourself
There are days when the melancholy settles on you like a sudden change in weather. The kind of sadness that is intangible. Like the presence of an ache where you can’t pinpoint exactly where it hurts, you just know it does.
LANG LEAV

Change Day Hurt Kind Known Sadness Yourself
The most beautiful thing is not when you learn to live without something: it’s the moment you realize you never needed it in the first place.
LANG LEAV

Beautiful Learning Live Moments Need Place
We spoke once about lovers who kept finding each other, no matter how many times the world came between them. And I think I had to break your heart, and you had to break mine. How else could we know the worth of what we were given?
LANG LEAV

Break Each Other Finding Lover Myself Thinking World Worth
In her eyes, the sadness sings-of one who was destined, for better things.
LANG LEAV

Better Destiny Eyes Sadness Sing
I don’t think all writers are sad, she said. I think it’s the other way around- all sad people write.
LANG LEAV

Deep Myself People Poet Sadness Thinking Writing
You are a writer bleeding words onto a page. And the ones who hate you will trample on that page. And the ones who love you will cut you, to keep you bleeding.
LANG LEAV

Blood Page Writing Yourself
I don’t know how you are so familiar to me-or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before-in another time, a different place, some other existence.
LANG LEAV

Difference Different Existence Feeling Impossible Known Love Myself Place Remember Smile
Don’t let them tell you that your pain should be confined to the past, that it bears no relevance to the present.
LANG LEAV

Pain Past Present Yourself
You won’t hear from me again after today, and I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be okay. Because I have to be.
LANG LEAV

Break Up Leave Myself Worry

But it was now time for her to go away-to find someone who could show her what happiness was.

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But it was now time for her to go away-to find someone who could show her what happiness was.

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Popular Authors

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