“Broken wings may be grounded now, but they will taste freedom again.”

And I’m bruised but never broken.

There is a story to tell in even the mundane, and beauty in the most unsuspecting.

And you have fast become my weakness, even as you remain my source of strength.

To be looked at and not found wanting – how beautiful to be enough.

My skin holds echoes of you; in every line, you used to trace and empty space you used to fill.

I accepted all of you – except for the vital part, that couldn’t accept all of me.

And when I lie broken with my face pressed to the earth – I will look to the cloudless sky, and reach out for it once more.

In the pause between your breaths and the space between your heartbeats, I think I heard forever.

This heaviness inside my bones tells me, I still carry the weight of loving you.

And all I wish is that your happiness would reach beneath the surface of your skin, grow deep roots, and bloom.

Tears like flame slide down my skin, they burn like the memory of you.

I constantly wonder if I’m enough, do you? Tell me I’m not alone in my insufficiency.

Walls and brick have never felt like home, the way your gentle bones do.

I want to lay down spread out and be the one to fill all the spaces empty – and occupied by her.

I breathe out light pleasing, soft, and warm – I’m still learning to breathe out fire.

Healing was not found in mending my brokenness, but in finding peace among the pieces.

A bore is someone who deprives you of solitude without providing you with company.

Hearts are made to be broken.

If I love you was a promise, would you break it if you’re honest?

If you love something, set it free. And if it really loves you, it will find a way to come back.

Nature never breaks her own laws.

What broke you, won’t heal you.

Nothing compares to the emptiness we both share.

For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.