The moon may bring peace, but the sun, she offers resilience.
HANNAH PEARLYour promises shatter like glass. Sliced nerves for every lie that travels from your tongue.
More Hannah Pearl Quotes
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I hide behind olive branches. So afraid of others knowing what lay beneath the broken rifle. The reality hitting the pavement like bullets that stem from war.
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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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Remember me in burnt coffee mornings, warm hugs, fresh sunday snow. Know that you loved me too cautiously.
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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 ever stare at something so long the colors blend together? Even the most neutral tones take on a life of their own, fold themselves into shapes that morph into creatures – wolves and goblin.
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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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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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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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My god is a moment, a whimsical idea, a whisper. A hope bending itself into a prayer.
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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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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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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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Surely I could never be certain of how many stars I’ve counted in the sky or of how such tiny particles can be build into wild-eyed stories like Aquarius and Cassiopeia. I could read you as I would the constellations and never tire.
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What a shame – how the taste of you could rot even the cedar and cypress. How you fooled the redwood into believing narcissus’ pond was made for two.
HANNAH PEARL