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 PEARLI’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.
More Hannah Pearl Quotes
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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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Your voice causes a power surge that courses through the veins, feeds off bones, minors in replay.
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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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Your promises shatter like glass. Sliced nerves for every lie that travels from your tongue.
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Love is believable. I reckon I’ll just see it when I see it.
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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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I’ve been afraid to look at the woman in the mirror. Everyday she looks less and less like me. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever find my way back home.
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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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My god is a moment, a whimsical idea, a whisper. A hope bending itself into a prayer.
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You are worthy of feeling incredibly and unapologetically alive.
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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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I miss you a little less each day. You’re just a faded memory now – delicate; tucked away.
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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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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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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.
HANNAH PEARL