I held my breath underwater and felt surrender in my lungs; maybe this too counts as love.
ODD KENWhat if love has always been the quench and the fire? or perhaps all we need to lose to find all we need to have?
More Odd Ken Quotes
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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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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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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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Please the night’s cold, not her name again!
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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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Either the jump or the drown, loving her has always readied me for the fire.
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To me there was only ever you!
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This ‘missing you’ It begs for water; it cries your name.
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I’ve seen it, I know it too; love still dances in the fire after the rescue.
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And when the cold comes, I swear I can feel her in my bones.
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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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Sometimes even in pain we smile to the world until we think we’re dying.
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What if love has always been the quench and the fire? or perhaps all we need to lose to find all we need to have?
ODD KEN -
Sorry to a heavy heart in the morning; sorry to waking up and being yourself the only reason to cry.
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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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After healing I’ll run back to her – of course this poem demands a brutal ending!
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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.
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Like a fractured bone in the ribs, the heart can be painfully heavy sometimes.
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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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Maybe water is not entirely lost when soaked into sand. Maybe it finds a better resting place to call home; and I hope she did too.
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Respect pain. Every heartfelt word is first born from sadness.
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These sharp edges you left behind, they cut so deep; and I guess maybe I am just not dying enough.
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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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Pain is never too weak to leave the body still standing or laughing the same.
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The broken worlds we hide inside; that’s how we start to die!
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If ever the fall is the ground, someone tell her I’m this close to soil, and I can feel it!
ODD KEN