Anxiety is living with an apple on your head and you imagine that everyone you know stands watching with a bow to shoot an arrow at it.
STEPHANIE BRIARThe pain of your memory is sharp enough to be felt the nails raked along my back by somebody else.
More Stephanie Briar Quotes
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I pressed the dress to my nose, and found what was left of your ghost. It was then that I remembered how to cry.
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I don’t know how to put my love down, or to keep holding too much of it.
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Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.
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You are what it feels like to watch the final silvers of sun fall and die into the silver ocean; tangerine sky giving way to moon-glow and starlight.
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Creatives are neither born nor created. They are activated.
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Your darkness does not scare me, nor will I run from you; like a star, I’m falling for the phases of your moon.
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If we are what we love, Then I am whatever you are made of.
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The search for external sources is nothing compared to internal forces.
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It quietly stops my breath to realize that my greatest grand gesture, my last, best act of love was to let you go.
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The pain of your memory is sharp enough to be felt the nails raked along my back by somebody else.
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As if flesh and skin and hands are any match for bullets. As if bones won’t crack in hails of powder and lead. As if rivers of blood are not the direct result of trigger fingers that bend but do not break on “bad days”.
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You’re preserved inside of me; cadaversque. I both acquiesce and atrophy because of it.
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I erected cities with adoration on my tongue and you burnt mine down in the wake of your love.
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We usually seek the divine in the sky, But religion is best found on the ground. Nature is our true creator.
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Let yourself go a little wild, a little rough around through the edges; the human spirit wasn’t meant for carefully-curated perfection.
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To the oppressed with no seat on the table; dreaming of change and better days, I will pull up a chair, and light fires in your name.
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“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.
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I fall headlong into everything that lights me on fire. I know not of restraint. I was born to burn.
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Love me until oblivion paints your portraits on my eyelids, sinking by eons into distance that never separates us.
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We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.
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When you focus on directing your energy away from harm and toward healing, you feed the soul and starve the ego.
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Emotion = Energy in motion.
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I am strong. My heart still hopes. My mind still dreams. My soul still craves pouring energy into everything that I love.
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I would throw down roots with you if I ever had the chance. We’d grow strong in tender shoots, and bloom in burning hands.
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Do I look as good as I remember, Looking back at you from over my shoulder, smug as the devil?
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Stop accepting abstract noun love. Real love is always action verb.
STEPHANIE BRIAR