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It’s quite sad that some words never reach the person they were written for.

Olivia Clifford

Sometimes I lay down at night and wonder if it’s time to lay down my life.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Death Life Myself Night Time
Time passes. But pieces of my heart remain in the moments of the past ignited the colors of my soul.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Heart Myself Past Pieces Soul Time
Don’t you get it? I’d live and die for you. You have my heart locked in prison. And yet you are my greatest source of freedom.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Death Freedom Heart Live Yourself
The adult heart beats differently.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Different Heart
It is beneath pale blue skies, amongst sycamore trees, and afoot dirtied leaves, my heart, and soul finds peace.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Heart Myself Peace Sky Soul Tree
I am laden with sorrow. But always hopeful of tomorrow.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Future Hard Time Hope Sorrow
Who knew feeling hollow could be so heavy.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Deep Feeling Shallow
Time is slipping away from me. And yet, all I have tried to do is pass time.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Lazy Myself Time Try
Your essence, so pure. Even from across the room. I want to savor every last drop. Maybe you could heal the devil in me.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Devil Healing Pieces Relationship Yourself
Run free little soul. You were never meant to be constrained.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Freedom Run Soul Yourself
I live in quiet confusion, in calm chaos, and in gentle waves of passion.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Live Passion Quiet
And when I don’t utter a word, that is when I feel the most.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Deep Feeling Myself Word
Your love left me simultaneously whole and in pieces.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Pieces Yourself
Rip out my heart. Dissect the atriums and valves. You’ll find nothing but love pouring out.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Heart Love Myself
Let’s sit at the table of angels and allow our horns to pop through our halos.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Angel Ourselves Spiritual
Misery loves company, perhaps I’m misery myself, wishing for someone to sit beside me and distract me from myself.
OLIVIA CLIFFORD

Company Misery Myself

It’s quite sad that some words never reach the person they were written for.

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It’s quite sad that some words never reach the person they were written for.

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Popular Authors

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