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The ghosts of all the women you used to be are all so proud of who you have become, storm child made of wild and flame.

Nikita Gill

Before we had mouths or language or hope, we still had love. I know it’s not much. But my god, it’s beautiful and on so many days it is enough.
NIKITA GILL

Beautiful Enough God Heart Hope Language
Fearless already runs through your blood. Now do it justice.
NIKITA GILL

Blood Fearless Justice Run Yourself
I wish they could see the tenderness in the way the darkness takes the night’s hand.
NIKITA GILL

Darkness Hands Night See Tender
A mess of beautiful contradictions make her whole, she wears fire for skin but a storm lives in her soul.
NIKITA GILL

Beautiful Contradiction Live Soul Storm
The loneliest thing you can ever do is take very instance where you should grow and waste it by only thinking how could this happen to you?
NIKITA GILL

Growth Lonely Thinking Wasted Time Yourself
There is a spell for almost anything and if there’s not a spell, there is at least a poem.
NIKITA GILL

Literature Poem Spell
She is alone, and oh how brilliantly she shines.
NIKITA GILL

Alone Brilliant Herself Shine
You have turned your heart into a museum of people you’ve loved to keep them alive inside you.
NIKITA GILL

Alive Heart Love Museum Yourself
There is a difference between holy and pure. Holy is also the way the anger boils inside our throats.
NIKITA GILL

Angry Difference Heart Holy Ourselves Pure
Maybe magic ends with me and it will never cross your path, but I want you to remember that survival is an art. The world is falsehood so you rely on your smarts.
NIKITA GILL

Art Break Up End Magic Smart Survival Yourself
Tell your daughters how you love your body. Tell them how they must love theirs.
NIKITA GILL

Body Daughter Love Self Love Yourself
What do you do when you see a love so pure, so completely unwavering other than bow to it?
NIKITA GILL

Bow Complete Love Pure See
You smell of death. Everything about is an endless goodbye.
NIKITA GILL

Bye Death Yourself
People aren’t born sad; we make them that way.
NIKITA GILL

Born People Sadness
The worst story I know is my heart. The best story I know is my heart. Both these truths know how to exist together in ways I never thought I will learn. This is the quietest of victories.
NIKITA GILL

Best Deep Existence Heart Known Myself Quiet Story Truth Victory Willing Worst
Everyone has forgotten that Lucifer was beautiful too and God’s favorite till he fell.
NIKITA GILL

Devil Fall Forget God Himself Lost

The ghosts of all the women you used to be are all so proud of who you have become, storm child made of wild and flame.

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The ghosts of all the women you used to be are all so proud of who you have become, storm child made of wild and flame.

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