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

Stephanie Briar

Related Topics

Myself Preserve

Bagwalas

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The search for external sources is nothing compared to internal forces.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Compare Force Search Worth
How do you sleep soundly, knowing you traded roses for weeds?
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Rose Sleep Sound Trade Yourself
Let yourself go a little wild, a little rough around through the edges; the human spirit wasn’t meant for carefully-curated perfection.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Human Perfection Rough Spirit Wild Yourself
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.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Burn Chance Growth Hands Myself Strong
The glint of mischief in your eyes is the flint in my matchstick. Striking; always this close to igniting.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Eyes Ignition Mischief Myself Relationship
Stop accepting abstract noun love. Real love is always action verb.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Acceptance Action Difference Literature Love Self Love Stop
If we are what we love, Then I am whatever you are made of.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Love Myself Relationship Yourself
I am a phoenix living in a culture of vultures.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Culture Live Myself
Light finds you just as I once did: an accident that is no accident.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Accident Hope Light Myself
Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Blood Easy Myself Poetry
Creatives are neither born nor created. They are activated.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Activate Born Creation Creativity
I was looking for you in all the places our love used to be. When all along I should have been looking for me.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Lost Love Myself Place Relationship Seek Yourself
Love me until oblivion paints your portraits on my eyelids, sinking by eons into distance that never separates us.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Distance Eyes Love Myself Painting Portrait Relationship Separate
The pain of your memory is sharp enough to be felt the nails raked along my back by somebody else.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Enough Memories Myself Pain Yourself
We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Ourselves Stars Writing
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.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Death Fall Feeling Glow Light Moon Silver Stars Sun

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