I’m scared of mediocrity, of scribing my soul on fading pages, each destined to the fate that met those before it – gently laid to rest in a growing pile of unwanted words.
M.K. STANDBYLeaves dance on twisted arms, swaying on the breeze as though choreographed by unseen hands. Even the faithless could find themselves converts, by the smell of dampened earth and its blossoming rose.
More M.K. Standby Quotes
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I fill the shadow of the girl you want, a placeholder to the one I know you’d rather – I’ll do for now, but not forever.
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Scribbled lines and crumpled pages – piles of rejection and resurrection. There will never be the right words to amend a lost goodbye.
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What use is sleep, when reality is more beautiful than my dreams could ever muster?
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The smell of oak reminds me of summers spent sleeping under canvas, crackling fires and roasted coffee, the soft sound of guitar and voices in unison.
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Building a fire from a ash, what did I expect?
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I feel like I’m on fire, fighting for a moment on respite – I’m not placing bets.
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Maybe this time I choose ignorance, because giving began to feel like losing – repairing a house from rubble, and making sandcastles with the ash.
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Words hold little scope, for a love that stretches far beyond the limitations of language.
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And in the end when the money is gone – will you still stay it was worth it.
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A collection of thoughts bundled together and bound in twine – more toxic than any chemical, my very own poison.
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In the pale light of a setting sun – I’ll hold your hand and promise to love you more, on the days that you forget to love yourself.
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Spirits dance on a velvet night, the sky it’s deepest black. In restless sleep and twisted dreams, they find themselves alive.
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Don’t give your heart to a poet – we see stories in a sentence and haunt you with our ink.
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I wished to every fountain, prayed to every god but some futures are set in stone – so here we go again.
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Her body may lay on your sheets, but my name sits softly on your lips.
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