“Writing spiteful poetry in a chapel I realized I have to love you no matter what you do.”

We are survivors we glisten in the sun for all the nights I died alone I did not know another woman carried my song and it is beautiful now look what we have become.

We live in a society where I am a crazy bitch for going to any lengths to keep you away from me.

I do not want my worth to be centered in men with fangs for teeth I do not deserve to be degraded in a leather seat my worth is powerful you will never take that away from me.

Can anybody hear me? Are my words going to waste I need to believe there was a purpose to all the pain?

Sex is not a map to me anymore I am more than my physical body.

I fought my way through plastic men the woman in me learned how to show her teeth no matter how fucking unladylike they say it makes me.

I imagine poetry to be a living entity in me.

It may have been mad love but at least it made me taste something even if it was blood.

I believe the ashes of my past life were stepping stones to becoming free.

I wish I could drink my troubles away but I can’t even do that right.

Why do you call me only so you can control me god I know you are lying but remorse sounds so good in your throat?

Ana gets fed off compliments I’m only as sick as my secrets.

With all your words of glass, I felt the wedding dress rip If I don’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing me cry why should I want to give you the rest of my life?

A woman of integrity I swallow stones I used to throw grace was daunting until I surrendered then everything changed a woman was made.

Spilling coffee-like tea on Sunday mornings with like-minded women is my favorite color of blooming.

Friendships that die are like a lost art.

Love is an ideal thing, marriage a real thing.

Few, I believe, have had much affection for mankind, who did not first love their parents, their brothers, sisters, and even the domestic brutes, whom they first played with.

You will never find what you are looking for in love, if you don’t love yourself.

Love does not dominate; it cultivates.

We must all be in love once in our lives.

To be loved for what one is, that is the greatest exception. The great majority love in others only what they lend him; their own selves, their version of him.

Loving life is easy when you are abroad. Where no one knows you and you hold your life in your hands all alone, you are more master of yourself than at any other time.

Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you’re wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn’t love you anymore.