Sometimes even in pain we smile to the world until we think we’re dying.
ODD KENI’m a drunk poet; and I guess maybe I sipped too much of what I couldn’t buy of her.
More Odd Ken Quotes
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I guess this has been my confusion; where I went wrong. Thinking that love could possibly come as a thing without the burns.
ODD KEN -
Like her name, some people are best left scrouged on the skin.
ODD KEN -
And when the cold comes, I swear I can feel her in my bones.
ODD KEN -
All through the depression, I was the soft toy in the hands of a baby with sharp teeth.
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When I say I love you, I mean something raw something below the surface of all waters; something almost too naked and true!
ODD KEN -
Give everything some time; pain hasn’t learn to walk yet.
ODD KEN -
I’ve seen it, I know it too; love still dances in the fire after the rescue.
ODD KEN -
I can sing love; only I’m afraid the lyrics might get shattered again.
ODD KEN -
In the end the salt calls the ocean home; and I guess this is why drowning has always been a part of loving you.
ODD KEN -
There’s not much I know about forgetting. By which I mean I can hear her name from a distance; and it still breathes cold in my chest.
ODD KEN -
Love is a job doer and a man slayer. Both equally efficient, until the taste of it is most felt on the cold side of the ribs.
ODD KEN -
I can feel the dust of her skin in my skin; and I think maybe that means these bones of mine have grown weary of crying too.
ODD KEN -
Today I can see the cracks on the wall they’re visible; but I can tell they are finding their way to soil, And so am I.
ODD KEN -
I guess there’s so much in your absence that kills my soul from the burning wood to ash.
ODD KEN -
Please the night’s cold, not her name again!
ODD KEN -
Either the jump or the drown, loving her has always readied me for the fire.
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I held my breath underwater and felt surrender in my lungs; maybe this too counts as love.
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In the end not every bleeding thing dies; at least, not like a paper plays in fire.
ODD KEN -
Perhaps I mistook the pain with work in progress.
ODD KEN -
Often times the language is different; by which I mean, I love her, and it’s the only stammer I’ve ever known.
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This ‘missing you’ It begs for water; it cries your name.
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The broken worlds we hide inside; that’s how we start to die!
ODD KEN -
I knew you would leave someday; And from there a poet will be born from the ashes.
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You’re gone. And I think I’m only trying to mean a lot to myself too.
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I’ve been to the countryside a couple of times. Somedays it is all wood and grass and empty. Other days it feels like you!
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These sharp edges you left behind, they cut so deep; and I guess maybe I am just not dying enough.
ODD KEN