For being still can either bring one clarity or chaos. You decide what the silence is worth.
AVA NICOLEFor being still can either bring one clarity or chaos. You decide what the silence is worth.
AVA NICOLEIf I were a garden and the seed were my soul, thus blooming is a process but I’m impatient.
AVA NICOLEI love the little things in life but when it comes to me, why do I find those little things about myself hard to love? I am everything I need.
AVA NICOLEThe lava that erupts from the volcanoes has been reoccurring for far too long and even tho I’ve been warned that my lava can burn others I can’t help but erupt at the possibility that someone will want to burn for me.
AVA NICOLEWe are perfectly imperfect human beings.
AVA NICOLEThe wind tickles my skin trees bend back and forth sunlight kisses the earth and yet with no sound at all, I hear everything. I am peace.
AVA NICOLEIt does not matter how much water your glass contains; never pour your water out, if it means sacrificing a refill.
AVA NICOLEMy flower’s roots glue me down among the wet soil in which the thunder has stunned my growth. Maybe I’ve already grown through the storms and the sun is delayed in its rising.
AVA NICOLEI was in love with my own chaos, gripping tightly onto fantasies, falling into traps that swallowed me whole. I am in awe of how chaotic I am, as falling hard into my own trap saved me from who I became.
AVA NICOLEIf you’re forced to walk on knives in a world where they’re sharpened, wear your best heels.
AVA NICOLEMy headspace is a playground and I’m still delayed in its construction.
AVA NICOLEI no longer seek the love I think I deserve but rather the love I’ve always deserved.
AVA NICOLEEvery day is an up and down spiral I have become a hurricane coming in with no warning ceasing to understand where my destruction has come from at all.
AVA NICOLEI am not sorry for the way I love. I am only sorry for loving people who haven’t a clue on how to love themselves.
AVA NICOLEIt’s hard when all you want is the sky, chasing after the hues of pinks and blues, feeling that for once you’ve got a grip on clouds that swoosh through storms of your own. But it’s worse when you ask for the sun and receiving the soil stuck to your feet.
AVA NICOLEIf there’s no struggle, you haven’t struggled yet.
AVA NICOLE