I wish I could bottle up this scent for winter days when it feels like this town will never see sun again.
HANNAH PEARLYou are worthy of feeling incredibly and unapologetically alive.
More Hannah Pearl Quotes
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Your promises shatter like glass. Sliced nerves for every lie that travels from your tongue.
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Don’t bother finding a soulmate. Your aunt tells you, your fluffy scrambled eggs are the best she’s had and dammit, you can enjoy those all by yourself. No need to share the wealth.
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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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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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Your voice causes a power surge that courses through the veins, feeds off bones, minors in replay.
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Love is believable. I reckon I’ll just see it when I see it.
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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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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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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.
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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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I’m used to falling, calling out timber right before the impact.
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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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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 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.
HANNAH PEARL