And the world seems just a little bit warmer, and the sun shines slightly brighter than it used to, and the days pass differently than before, and time is no longer stuck in a loop.
JESSICA WILDEI love you – like a lighthouse and the sea, like mountaintops and valleys, like how the sun breathes life into leaves without even touching.
More Jessica Wilde Quotes
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Today, cold seeps from my insides out, the frigid rain warm on my skin.
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I learned all about love from people that didn’t know how to love me.
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Here I am again, chasing shadows, as if I’m peter pan convincing Wendy not to grow up – I’m waiting for you in the between place. Dreaming and never quite awake.
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What do you do, when all the loves you’ve ever known have only been paper moons?
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Underneath the stars, the weight of living dissolves – releases, breathes, be.
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Expanding like the universe, I discovered galaxies within. To break glass ceilings: Breath in trust, exhale doubt-beckon bravery.
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Lost journals are steps back home, like the mending of broken bones, like scars that act as patches to my soul, like the measurement marks on my mother’s wall that show just how much I’ve grown.
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I’m half agony, half hope – like I’m a freshly cut bone, like the last stone that was held – then not thrown, like a garden where inspiration roots but never grows.
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I am fierce yet fragile – cradle me with care, I can shred your soul, light you on fire, or send you into the dark abyss – the difference between us is – I wouldn’t dare.
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You hold a piece of me I will never get back. Be even tender.
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The sea calls to me – she promises to set me free, it’s tempting- losing myself in her vastness allowing her to swallow me whole, beckoning me to make her deep darkness my forever home.
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I know I haven’t told you, but I also know, that you’ve felt my love.
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I lace barbed wire around my heart, constrict it – pull tight, maybe the pain will make it feel alive, and I can pretend it didn’t already die.
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You break everything you touch. Why was I surprised when you broke me too?
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Loving you is like breathing in freshly fallen snow-baptized mornings.
JESSICA WILDE






