Meet me where happiness doesn’t feel like a false spring.
SCHUYLERYes, this life is mine, but more often I watch it take place and my hands feel too far away to touch it.
More Schuyler Quotes
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How radiant you are, waiting by the window, watching for the sun to grant you more time to dance beneath it. You’ve let yourself dream again. Even if its in bites, even if it’s in a different voice than it used to be.
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Hold me here, where I feel less like a stranger to my own laughter. Where it’s easier to believe things happen for a reason or maybe, at least, out of a thousand winding roads my life might take, I will still find one that fits me.
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This does not have to be a hard life to love. There is not enough time to let it stray too far from my hands.
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In a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.
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I want to wade into the water on the sidewalk, crawl out of this feeling without giving it a name. Take a lighter to love’s sticky edges so its sadness isn’t caught in my throat.
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We’re in spring and I have learned how to be gentle and sharp; strong bark on budding trees. Hold out your hands. I’ll leave a pink kiss and a pocket knife.
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I’m remembering again, how loneliness has always made me brave.
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Some mornings, I like to live like a secret; wake as quietly as I can, slip out of bed without so much as a wrinkle.
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I’ll craft a haven that that cradles every joy and sorrow, but doesn’t hold them to keep.
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Change is not a four letter curse word I once believed it to be.
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I’m thinking about how early the spring flower buds rise up from the grass; just barely on winter’s heels. How uncomfortable, how cold the soil must be, still half-frosted, when the roots start to take shape.
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I will still live like a ghost in the mornings; walking, listening, pouring coffee to finish sometime by the afternoon, when I’ve had enough of watching the world and do all I can to live in it.
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I sit on the bare floor, leave my palms unturned, and watch relief pool into one hand, and uncertainty in the next. I will try not to lean more one way or another, but let them hold each other as company.
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I descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.
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I know I could be an astronomer of this swooning.
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I don’t want to be a saint, I want a love I don’t fight alone to keep.
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Yes, this life is mine, but more often I watch it take place and my hands feel too far away to touch it.
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If every feeling comes like a wave, I try to decide what kind of coastline I’ll become.
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Please come here, but not too close.
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I’m writing about moving again, and when I write about moving, I really mean beginning. I’m beginning again.
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I still know the fabric of where I begin and end.
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In a dream, I’m holding you close and when I wake, I do. How lucky, to want and have.
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My love lives in my cheeks – gives me away by the first smile. all the lines from years spent laughing, warm with extra freckles in the summer; a poker face that doesn’t keep once my knees fold.
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We’ve never seen what a happy life could look like if we chose to spend it by ourselves – sharing our beautiful lives with friends, family members, the occasional crush, and lounging out in that quiet space alone as if an idyllic sunned beach.
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The world will be loud again. I’ll notice the loneliness less.
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Your anger, your sorrow, your fear, are okay to feel through, no matter how big it feels now.
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