Our memories lurch to a reluctant halt in their funeral march, so I can pour salt over them one last time.
STEPHANIE BRIARStop accepting abstract noun love. Real love is always action verb.
More Stephanie Briar Quotes
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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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How do you sleep soundly, knowing you traded roses for weeds?
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I am a phoenix living in a culture of vultures.
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“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.
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You’re preserved inside of me; cadaversque. I both acquiesce and atrophy because of it.
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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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In the absence of you I look to the moon and pray that the stars light my way, too.
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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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Creatives are neither born nor created. They are activated.
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He’ll keep some daying and tommorwing until he has no tomorrows left. I don’t choose that.
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We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.
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When I was a child, I used to fear monsters under the bed. I have since learned that most monsters are found within. And they are always worth fighting.
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The day I made peace with my pain was the day I was born again.
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Can hope bloom in the shade? Can time give back what it takes away? I once saw the answers to life in your eyes; now I can remember the words to goodbye.
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Our story bleeds from my eyes until I cannot tell the stars from streetlights.
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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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In my dreams you conjure me like a spell in the night. Let us haunt one another with uneasy peace, and die burning alive.
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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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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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The search for external sources is nothing compared to internal forces.
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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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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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Some days, my mind will still be in prison, but I will live in spite of it. I unlearn how to swim; I trade my gills for lungs and wings.
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Trauma has deep roots indeed, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pull the weeds.
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Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.
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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.
STEPHANIE BRIAR