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.
JESSICA WILDEMisty morning welcomes me as I wander through the trees – calm amidst the chaos of distant memories.
More Jessica Wilde Quotes
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Misty morning welcomes me as I wander through the trees – calm amidst the chaos of distant memories.
JESSICA WILDE -
Your laughter sounds like a galactic symphony, your eyes shine magic like Saturn’s rings, and your golden hair flares like the sun. I smile as I rock the universe to sleep and sing of stars that twinkle deep within your dreams.
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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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When rules don’t make sense, ask questions, break barriers, rise above it all.
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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.
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I hear your voice say my name and my soul melts slow, I’m a helpless mess.
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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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When winter withers – my bones begin to thaw, my lungs crackle as they expand, and the blood in my veins start to flow and I awaken from hibernation – hungry for happiness and eager to let go.
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You break everything you touch. Why was I surprised when you broke me too?
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I learned all about love from people that didn’t know how to love me.
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Lavender lullabies whispered into night skies, remnants of galaxies cradled closely, as you sleep sweetly, time slips away and so do I.
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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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Fireside and free, tangled up in curiosity, dripping in holy honesty, drawing in pure ecstasy, exploring possibilities – a cabin in the woods.
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Today, cold seeps from my insides out, the frigid rain warm on my skin.
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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.
JESSICA WILDE