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 PEARLRemember me in burnt coffee mornings, warm hugs, fresh sunday snow. Know that you loved me too cautiously.
More Hannah Pearl Quotes
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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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If y’all like spooky season just examine my brain. It’s plastered across this page on display.
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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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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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My god is a moment, a whimsical idea, a whisper. A hope bending itself into a prayer.
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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.
HANNAH PEARL -
Your voice causes a power surge that courses through the veins, feeds off bones, minors in replay.
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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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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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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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You will be the ocean. Strong enough to tighten the sails and safe enough to jump ship for.
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Love is believable. I reckon I’ll just see it when I see it.
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There’s a mystery in you; a puzzle to solve- mystical elements to a love that you’ve longingly ached for.
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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.
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Your promises shatter like glass. Sliced nerves for every lie that travels from your tongue.
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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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Your words once a melody, now read like an obituary.
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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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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 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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You are worthy of feeling incredibly and unapologetically alive.
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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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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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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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I’m used to falling, calling out timber right before the impact.
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You have always been enough. Allow yourself to finally feel it.
HANNAH PEARL