You won’t hear from me again after today, and I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be okay. Because I have to be.
LANG LEAVYou won’t hear from me again after today, and I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be okay. Because I have to be.
More Lang Leav Quotes
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The memory of you is fading, a little at a time, and I can feel myself forgetting.
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Our love story comes to me in waves, in movie stills and long summer afternoons spent under a sky of incessant blue. I still think of your eyes in flashes of color, your hands in a frenetic, feverish blur-your smile a mosaic of light and shadow. I still find myself lost in those moments of abstraction.
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Are you like me? Do you give too much, too quickly? Do you throw yourself blindly at the world, thinking that it will always open its arms up to you?
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Sometimes I am caught between poetry and prose, like two lovers I can’t decide between. Prose says to me, let’s build something long and lasting. Poetry takes me by the hand, and whispers, come with me, let’s get lost for awhile.
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Summer was felt a little more; in autumn I began to fall. When winter came with all its white, you were mine to kiss goodnight.
LANG LEAV -
When love finds you, it doesn’t come as crashing waves or thunderbolts. It appears as a song on the radio or a particular blue in the sky. It dawns on you slowly, like a warm winter sunrise-where the promise of summer shines out from within.
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You must emerge from adversity, scathed but victorious to tell your story and, in turn, light the way for others.
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I don’t want to be in a relationship where I feel the constant need to explain myself. I don’t want to live in a world like that either.
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I am already nostalgic for what we have, even with you still here.
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She was the book that was not written. The sentence that was not scripted. She was the word you wished you could have said.
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You’re still crying about him aren’t you? Silly girl. What good will it do you to spill those sky blu tears? You meant either everything to him or absolutely nothing at all.
LANG LEAV -
I was loved in my dreams last night. It echoed through me like thunder-I felt it through and through.
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The sad thing is,” she said, “the moment you start to miss someone, it means they’re already gone.
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Before the tears that tore us, when our history was before us.
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For she is his poet, and he is her poetry.
LANG LEAV