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You can’t tame a girl who has her head. In the clouds and one foot out the door.

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Tame Woman Yourself

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If I had known our last kiss was to be our last kiss, I would have kissed you as if it was our first.
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He was exactly like hitting a red light during a killer streak of green.
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Every now and then even the sweetest souls burn it to the ground, just to remind the rest of them who exactly they are fucking with.
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I think you were my taste of heaven after a lifetime of eating hell.
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She is of the strangest beauty and the darkest courage, and when she walks with intent the earth trembles beneath her feet.
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I have been covered in easy kisses from uneasy lips, and I know I smell weary again.
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I still pick at these memories of you; I pick them until they bleed.
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I have known love and I have known loss, but in the end, they both looked a lot like you.
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She tasted like wildflowers; crushed, wet wild flowers carried in sticky palms through farmers’ fields, just before dawn.
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There is no greater power than that of the sun, the moon, and a woman who knows her worth.
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And that is the nature of us poets and whores, to make things hard: dicks, choices, life.
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On paper I have killed you a thousand times but my heart disregards clever words.
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You can fan the flames with hate or stroke the fire with love, either way, it’s going to burn.
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I breathe him in so deep that when he is gone I exhale and taste him again.
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Sometimes love is nothing more than a sticky web; illusions spun, from clever minds and bitter hearts.
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Be bold, child. You are rare and you are brazen light.
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