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

It’s those Saturday mornings laughing underneath the sheets it’s a glimpse of everything I dreamed that makes me feel hope for us. Saturdays could be our thing.

Writing saved me when my phone went silent.

Hard crash everything good has to end take your fucking Prozac.

You were the best and worst nights of my life fucking while the flames lick us at least you’re a distraction from my spiritual death. You’re a god damn angel in a crack den.

I am a woman writer the last thing I am is weak.

Your silence speaks in waves I am trying to not drown in my own thoughts let alone yours.

And when I pour myself unafraid like the shatter had a purpose I become the wave.

I gave names to all my disorders to humanize the pain.

You were poetry in a dark hallway whispering to know me in a psychotic way the way your neck tattoos straddle my throat I’m envious of every girl you’ve ever known.

Talking to you wrecks me because it is a glimpse into what I could have had if only.

Dry throat on the days I’d rather just watch the candle burn.

I want my cake and to eat it too but bulimia runs rampant and she is a fucking bitch.

If nothing else you have inspired me to write beautiful poetry if nothing else I bring words to the table with me.

Loneliness has taught me more things about myself than love ever has.

I love you I’m just trying not to wear my heart on my text messages.

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 were born crying. Therefore, we must try at any cost; to keep a smile on the face.

While the parts change, the whole always remains the same. For every thief who departs this world, a new one is born. And every decent person who passes away is replaced by a new one. In this way not only does nothing remain the same but also nothing ever really changes.

Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.

Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.

The first thing brought forth by the study of any religion, ancient or modern, is that it is based upon Fear, born of it, fed by it — and that it cultivates the source from which its nourishment is derived.

By education I am an Englishman, by views an internationalist, by culture a Muslim and a Hindu only by accident of birth.

Love has three kinds of origin, namely: suffering, friendship and love. A human love has a corporal and intellectual origin.

You are a child of the moon darling born from light.