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You’re preserved inside of me; cadaversque. I both acquiesce and atrophy because of it.

Stephanie Briar

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You’re preserved inside of me; cadaversque. I both acquiesce and atrophy because of it.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Myself Preserve
Trauma has deep roots indeed, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pull the weeds.
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Deep Self Love Trauma Yourself
I fall headlong into everything that lights me on fire. I know not of restraint. I was born to burn.
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“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.
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We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.
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Ourselves Stars Writing
The stars are where we came from. They orchestrated our return to the place we can always come home: our ancient, timeless love.
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Home Love Ourselves Place Return Stars Time
We usually seek the divine in the sky, But religion is best found on the ground. Nature is our true creator.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Best Creation Divine Nature Ourselves Religion Seek Sky True
In my dreams we got past the parking lot; you took me past the old, oak door, led me up onto the vacant altar, and offered me to every god whose name you invoked as you worshipped my body.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Body Devotion Dreams Myself Name Park Past Relationship Religious Sex Worship Yourself
The search for external sources is nothing compared to internal forces.
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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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Human Perfection Rough Spirit Wild Yourself
Creatives are neither born nor created. They are activated.
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Light finds you just as I once did: an accident that is no accident.
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Accident Hope Light Myself
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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Act Best Breathe Greatness Last Let Go Love Myself Quiet
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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Burn Chance Growth Hands Myself Strong
I pressed the dress to my nose, and found what was left of your ghost. It was then that I remembered how to cry.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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How do you sleep soundly, knowing you traded roses for weeds?
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Rose Sleep Sound Trade Yourself

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