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Maybe we slip in and out of alternate worlds through our minds and our imaginations, picking up scar tissue from other dimensions.

Lang Leav

It was pure bliss and absolute torture at the same time. I was in daze, as if my brain had suddenly packed up and gone on vacation. I could barely string words together in a sentence.
LANG LEAV

Bliss Brain Myself Togetherness Torture Vacation
When someone stirs a world of emotion in you and it’s so intense you can barely stand to be with him.
LANG LEAV

Emotion Feeling Himself Intense Stand World
People who are prone to sadness are more likely to pick up a pen.
LANG LEAV

People Poet Sadness Writing
I will celebrate this life of mine, with or without you. The moon does not need the sun to tell her she is already whole.
LANG LEAV

Celebration Life Moon Myself Sun Whole
I know you are scared. Who could blame you? Love is a hurricane wrapped inside a chrysalis. And you are a girl walking into the storm.
LANG LEAV

Hurricane Known Love Scare Storm Walk
That night, we talked the way old friends do, with candor and ease.
LANG LEAV

Friendship Night Talk
I have buried myself so deep in my words that sometimes I can’t tell if I am the person writing or the one hiding between the lines.
LANG LEAV

Bury Hide Myself Person Poem Word Writing
I think there is a sense of ownership in knowing, isn’t there? You let people in, and they claim parts of you-they fly their flag over uncharted territory and from then onward-you cease to belong wholly to yourself.
LANG LEAV

Known People Self Love Thinking Whole Yourself
I have always thought of memories as fragments, like colored glass shards in a kaleidoscope. It is the source of great beauty in our lives, yet the cause of such heartache. It remains the bridge between our past and present – it gives weight and dimension to our very existence.
LANG LEAV

Beautiful Color Dimension Existence Fragment Glass Greatness Heart Broken Memories Ourselves Source
I think that bothers me more than anything. That he could look in my eyes and tell me something that is completely contrary to the truth.
LANG LEAV

Eyes Myself Thinking Truth
We will remain unwritten through history, no X will mark us on the map; but in books of prose and poetry, you loved me once, in a paragraph.
LANG LEAV

Book History Literature Love Poem Remain Writing Yourself
In many ways, a book is, in itself, a tiny universe. Each page is like a newly formed galaxy, fashioned from a single, pulsing thought. A book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.
LANG LEAV

Book Fashion Love Myself Point Time Togetherness Universe
In her eyes, the sadness sings-of one who was destined, for better things.
LANG LEAV

Better Destiny Eyes Sadness Sing
I think the mysterious pull that draws you to another person is identical to the one that moves our eyes upward to the stars.
LANG LEAV

Identity Mystery Stars Thinking Yourself
The feeling is like the ocean. Sometimes calm and still; other times, it’s a hurricane.
LANG LEAV

Calm Feeling Hurricane Ocean Time
I know love because I am in love. Because of how long I’ve loved. Because of the man I love.
LANG LEAV

Known Love Man Myself

Maybe we slip in and out of alternate worlds through our minds and our imaginations, picking up scar tissue from other dimensions.

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Maybe we slip in and out of alternate worlds through our minds and our imaginations, picking up scar tissue from other dimensions.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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