Like a fractured bone in the ribs, the heart can be painfully heavy sometimes.
ODD KENThere’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.
More Odd Ken Quotes
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Breathe in the pain and bring out the wounds. It’s only a process and you’ll learn to survive the rest.
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To me there was only ever you!
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Pain is never too weak to leave the body still standing or laughing the same.
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I knew you would leave someday; And from there a poet will be born from the ashes.
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There’s a constant battle of me and healing; all of which still sits burning and intricately perplexed in ink.
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In the end not every bleeding thing dies; at least, not like a paper plays in fire.
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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.
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Like her name, some people are best left scrouged on the skin.
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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.
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Most days missing her is my only choice between death and dying.
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Sometimes even in pain we smile to the world until we think we’re dying.
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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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I forget how our story started; but these days I’m finding the missing pieces behind every exhale, where I left the words standing with sore feet.
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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!
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To heal is to be constantly reminded that once you learn to punch, you die with blood on your wrist.
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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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I guess there’s so much in your absence that kills my soul from the burning wood to ash.
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I swear I love her so much that somedays I can’t quite tell if I’m just a good liar.
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All through the depression, I was the soft toy in the hands of a baby with sharp teeth.
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Sorry to a heavy heart in the morning; sorry to waking up and being yourself the only reason to cry.
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In the end the salt calls the ocean home; and I guess this is why drowning has always been a part of loving you.
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After healing I’ll run back to her – of course this poem demands a brutal ending!
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I’ve been quiet most of today. By which I mean I can see myself in the mirror; And believe me it is something hard to look at these days.
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I’m a drunk poet; and I guess maybe I sipped too much of what I couldn’t buy of her.
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Perhaps I mistook the pain with work in progress.
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Somedays depression is tender, as though hurting is just an art; and that maybe she didn’t break me more than enough!
ODD KEN