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.
JESSICA WILDEYou were refreshing. Your idea of love infused me with hope and joy.
More Jessica Wilde Quotes
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Time aches- my words break as if they’re the wings of a captured butterfly as if they’re the seconds that keep ticking by as if they’re embers that refuse to ignite.
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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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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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I simply cannot hold onto hope, it aches like possibilities never reached, I’m bubbling over with grief – this chaos has caused so much loss and fatigue.
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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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I am swept beneath your current – it pulls me in, and I don’t even try to swim.
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I learned all about love from people that didn’t know how to love me.
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Today, cold seeps from my insides out, the frigid rain warm on my skin.
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Misty morning welcomes me as I wander through the trees – calm amidst the chaos of distant memories.
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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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Cider and candor and cranberry kisses, firelight dancing – lowered inhibitions, our eyes caught up in intimate moments, soaking in these cinnamon-spiced secrets.
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Loving you is like breathing in freshly fallen snow-baptized mornings.
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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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I chip and carve until I’m a corpse – a bone with no marrow, or a sparrow without wings, a vein without wings, a vein without blood, a puppet with no strings.
JESSICA WILDE






