“Living is not living when I am living without you.”

And what am I but the smallest of footnotes in the universe’s everlasting memoir?

This country collects too many tongues, until our only language is silence.

I don’t know how to let you out without destroying us both.

Seek refuge in the space between my bones.

Somewhere inside my throat lives your ache.

I like to trace the ghosts of your fingers on the back of my hand. They read- I don’t know how to hold without you.

I pocket grief and it beckons me like a lover.

My silhouette is an ocean, your lips a sailor.

There is a calmness in not knowing.

Every beauty mark, a country to roam. Every stretch mark, a river to cross.

I loved you in quiet because to hide is to pretend that it is okay.

Allow me to introduce myself, A warning and a welcoming all at once.

We are so much more than skin can hold.

When I look in the mirror, I don’t see a poem.

I have lived too many lives to be only one thing, and instead of attempting to mesh them into a form of a human being, I have decided to love every jagged edge of mine.

I don’t like how your embrace feels like comfort till the knife thrust.

Money buys you the freedom to live your life the way you want.

If you believe in living a respectable life, you believe in self-help which is the best help!

All good things are wild and free. Live wild, flower child.

When you live your life well and to the fullest there’s no time to even stress about a single thing.

I have lived long enough to satisfy both nature and glory.

We are living in a nation which worships wealth rather than caring for the poor. I don’t think that is the nation we should be living in.

But how could you live and have no story to tell?

What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.