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That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.

Lang Leav

And I sighed and wept for what could not be–and for all that could have been.
LANG LEAV

Cry Dream Future Myself Sadness
You talk to me in riddles, I will answer you in rhyme. I loved you for a little- I will love you for all time.
LANG LEAV

Answer Love Rhyme Talk Time Yourself
Some days it felt like a burden, to smile for you. To keep the lines of worry from etching into your forehead.
LANG LEAV

Burden Feeling Smile Worry Yourself
For she is his poet, and he is her poetry.
LANG LEAV

Herself Himself Love Poet Poetry
That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.
LANG LEAV

Hands Oneself Sacred Writing
We all have moments of darkness, moments when we are so unlike ourselves. And like vultures they wait for a slip, a misstep, then they take that part of us and try to convince the world that is all we are.
LANG LEAV

Darkness Moments Ourselves Vulture World
I wish I could put a pen in your hand and gently remind you how the world has given you poetry and now you must give it back.
LANG LEAV

Hands Poetry Reminder Yourself
It was the year you learned that shooting stars were either a blessing or a curse, depending on what you wanted to believe.
LANG LEAV

Believe Blessing Curse Learning Yourself
Why do you write? he asked. So I can take my love for you and give it to the world, I reply. Because you won’t take it from me.
LANG LEAV

Himself Love Myself World Writing
In a sea of strangers, you’ve longed to know me. Your life spent sailing to my shores.
LANG LEAV

Known Life Sailing Sea Shore Stranger
The less you speak, the more weight your words will carry when you do.
LANG LEAV

Important Talk Value Weight Word Yourself
Love is a dormant volcano, lying in wait, biding its time.
LANG LEAV

Dormant Love Silence Time Volcano
People who are prone to sadness are more likely to pick up a pen.
LANG LEAV

People Poet Sadness Writing
Yes, we took it all for granted-but isn’t that such a blessed thing? When you’re not even thinking about what you have, because you never imagine you someday won’t.
LANG LEAV

Blessing Grant Imagination Relationship Thinking Yourself
Somehow, there is a sense of comfort in knowing nothing will ever hit me quite as hard again. Nothing will ever be as beautiful, but neither will anything hurt as much.
LANG LEAV

Beautiful Comfortable Hurt Known Myself Willing
To never do the things I’ve done that once had led to my undoing.
LANG LEAV

Action Destruction Myself Work

That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.

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That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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