If y’all like spooky season just examine my brain. It’s plastered across this page on display.
HANNAH PEARLThere’s a mystery in you; a puzzle to solve- mystical elements to a love that you’ve longingly ached for.
More Hannah Pearl Quotes
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I waited, quietly listened, cupped my ear to your mouth, but silence echoed grievously in the absence of sound. It was only warm breath and then emptiness.
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Needle in a haystack, a small town on a roadmap, searching for you through the abstract- how incredibly hard to find.
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What an intimidating kind of beauty a rainbow holds. Then of course, there’s the jealously dripping between vampirish teeth of those who dare mock it.
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And when I walk alone, I speak in deaf tones. I’m screaming and no one knows, no one knows. No one pays attention to where the sound goes.
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Some days, my mind still flickers, but the light doesn’t stay on. Kind of like the hope I felt when your fingers squeezed my palm. But they simply call that a reflex.
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I’m used to falling, calling out timber right before the impact.
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I miss you a little less each day. You’re just a faded memory now – delicate; tucked away.
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Your words once a melody, now read like an obituary.
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The hardest part is when the leaves abandon the trees. I seem to always lose a part of me.
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It wasn’t enough fading under surfaces, below waves, swollen pufferfish retracting this inflated love that not even you could believe in.
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You are worthy of feeling incredibly and unapologetically alive.
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Write me as if I were already a poem. Pen the stanzas as if storms and ships could birth something sacred. Color it a religious experience.
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I wait and wait and wait and god I am sick of waiting. To not see your face anymore. To not know the burden that belongs to you. To not imagine the window I looked through the night I found out.
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If I’m wrong about you, let’s face it instead of fading like tire marks swallowed by rain. Run me into the midst of a storm. Leave me to drown there.
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I’m from a state that houses too many cornfields and a town that no one takes seriously- in a home where glass cuts hurt less than deeply wounded words.
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If I had a wishing well, I’d wish you well. That the skies hold the key to all you’ve ever wanted, with or without me.
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I haven’t wept for days, only shuffling feet, carrying weights, ignoring the pain, numbing the face. Its all a charade.
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Caution! This vehicle stops quite frequently when overwhelmed.
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I wish I could bottle up this scent for winter days when it feels like this town will never see sun again.
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It’s time for me to dust off this weary heart so that I may open it to one whose only open to me. You’re going to miss me when I’m gone and it’ll be too late.
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Love is believable. I reckon I’ll just see it when I see it.
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When words tripped off the side of your grin, I felt the statement slip toward my ear like the slide of a skateboard on griptape – how it led me to hate a sport I’ve never even tried.
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Your voice causes a power surge that courses through the veins, feeds off bones, minors in replay.
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You have always been enough. Allow yourself to finally feel it.
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Indigo child, you hid secret under graves, picked at the lamb stuck between teeth, felt around for monsters we once reaped. But the monster turned out to be free.
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I am hurting. I am angry. I am one hundred and thirty-two synonyms of regret, but atleast its proof that I was here.
HANNAH PEARL