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Let her be herself. Or she will be somebody else’s.

Lang Leav

My indecision. I wanted everything because I didn’t want anything enough.
LANG LEAV

Decision Enough Myself
She was the book that was not written. The sentence that was not scripted. She was the word you wished you could have said.
LANG LEAV

Book Scripture Word Writing Yourself
Like time suspended, a wound unmended – you and I. We had no ending, no said goodbye; For all my life, I’ll wonder why.
LANG LEAV

End Life Myself Time Wound
The only ones they can turn against you are those who were never with you.
LANG LEAV

Betrayal Loyalty Yourself
Searching for the one thing, that would set my sad soul free.
LANG LEAV

Free Oneself Sad Search Soul
What I feel for you is at once the expression of language and the absence of it.
LANG LEAV

Absence Expression Feeling Language Myself
Before I fell in live with words, with setting skies and singing birds – it was you I fell in love with first.
LANG LEAV

Fall Love Myself Sky Word
You know, missing someone can sometimes be the best thing for a writer.
LANG LEAV

Best Missing Writing Yourself
I think the mysterious pull that draws you to another person is identical to the one that moves our eyes upward to the stars.
LANG LEAV

Identity Mystery Stars Thinking Yourself
There are things we sacrifice for love, that we willingly give. But no one who loves you will ever ask you to give up more than you are willing.
LANG LEAV

Give Up Love Sacrifice Willing Yourself
I know you are scared. Who could blame you? Love is a hurricane wrapped inside a chrysalis. And you are a girl walking into the storm.
LANG LEAV

Hurricane Known Love Scare Storm Walk
When you don’t have the whole attention of someone, you find yourself begging for it from everyone.
LANG LEAV

Attention Beg Finding Yourself
Sometimes I am caught between poetry and prose, like two lovers I can’t decide between. Prose says to me, let’s build something long and lasting. Poetry takes me by the hand, and whispers, come with me, let’s get lost for awhile.
LANG LEAV

Hands Lost Lover Myself Poetry
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 tomorrow, tomorrow could be different, and that is what keeps me going today.
LANG LEAV

Belief Future Hope Myself
Where the strangers we meet, take us down one way streets, and forgetting is something we’re taught.
LANG LEAV

Forget Meet Myself Stranger Teaching

Let her be herself. Or she will be somebody else’s.

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Let her be herself. Or she will be somebody else’s.

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Popular Authors

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