I’m used to falling, calling out timber right before the impact.
HANNAH PEARLI haven’t wept for days, only shuffling feet, carrying weights, ignoring the pain, numbing the face. Its all a charade.
More Hannah Pearl Quotes
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Caution! This vehicle stops quite frequently when overwhelmed.
HANNAH PEARL -
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.
HANNAH PEARL -
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.
HANNAH PEARL -
I miss you a little less each day. You’re just a faded memory now – delicate; tucked away.
HANNAH PEARL -
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 -
My god is a moment, a whimsical idea, a whisper. A hope bending itself into a prayer.
HANNAH PEARL -
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.
HANNAH PEARL -
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.
HANNAH PEARL -
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.
HANNAH PEARL -
Your words once a melody, now read like an obituary.
HANNAH PEARL -
I haven’t wept for days, only shuffling feet, carrying weights, ignoring the pain, numbing the face. Its all a charade.
HANNAH PEARL -
The hardest part is when the leaves abandon the trees. I seem to always lose a part of me.
HANNAH PEARL -
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.
HANNAH PEARL -
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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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