“On paper I have killed you a thousand times but my heart disregards clever words.”

They build ladders from my spine and they climb and they fall and they break me, and they climb again.

Sometimes love is nothing more than a sticky web; illusions spun, from clever minds and bitter hearts.

There is no greater power than that of the sun, the moon, and a woman who knows her worth.

I have God in my words and the devil in my ear, and a sister who keeps telling me to find my magic.

You load your words as I bare my chest, and this will be the most beautiful death.

Poetry is the loveliest art. It has a wretched way of revealing our own character when we think we are judging the poets.

I have known love and I have known loss, but in the end, they both looked a lot like you.

I write because suicide is no longer an option.

Too many times I have given this heart away, I am afraid it is no longer mine.

I think I saw you again in the moonlight tonight, and I swear I could taste the hints of it alll.

He left love letters at my door, and a chalk outline on the highway.

How recklessly we turn from strangers and blindly back to lovers, to nothing.

He was all dangerous eyes and beautiful lies, but I ached. for him to lie to me some more.

Some souls were never meant to be content.

I like you here, between commas, where the only thing you can break now, is my lines.

He was everything I never could, but always wanted to love.

Life made us sisters and our hearts made friends.

If you have been brutally broken, but still have the courage to be gentle to other living beings, then you’re a badass with the heart of an angel.

It is not the brains that matter most, but that which guides them – the character, the heart, generous qualities, progressive ideas.

Letting go is not easy at all , it breaks you from inside.

Some experiences destroy you.

My blood is a miracle that, from my veins, crosses the air in my heart into yours.

Only fools break a loving heart like yours.

When the people you love are gone, you’re alone.