“I didn’t want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I’d cry for a week.”

The abstract kills, the concrete saves.

I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.

It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.

I’m sarcastic, skeptical, and sometimes callous because I’m still afraid, deep down, of letting myself be hurt.

I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life.

I knew you’d decide to be all right again.

Wear your heart on your skin in this life.

I have stitched life into me like a rare organ.

After all, we are nothing more or less than we choose to reveal.

Perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.

As a poet, one lives a bit on air. I always like someone who can teach me something practical.

Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.

I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.

I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.

Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.

Don’t you believe true love can heal a broken heart?

She could be anything. But she’s just a girl with a broken heart.

This heart. It’s broke. I don’t want it anymore.

I have so much love to give even with these daggers still stuck in my heart.

I felt it. I heard the snap of my heart tearing in half. It wasn’t a messy, dirty rip like I’d expected, but a smooth, clean line that knew just where to break to hurt me the most.

I thought time would heal my broken heart, but its been forever since I fell in love and I’m scared that you took pieces of me that can’t be replaced.

The autumn breeze carves out an ache in your memory.

If through a broken heart God can bring His purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart.