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

Stephanie Briar

Related Topics

Rose Sleep Sound Trade Yourself

Bagwalas

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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.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Dreams Heart Hope Love Mindset Myself Soul Strong
Trauma has deep roots indeed, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pull the weeds.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Deep Self Love Trauma 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
We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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

Rose Sleep Sound Trade Yourself
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

Clothes Cry Ghost Myself Remember
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 BRIAR

Anxiety Head Imagination Live Mental Shoot Stand Yourself
Last night, I sent you home with a kiss and a promise. I hope you still believe in roses.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Believe Home Hope Kiss Myself Night Promise Rose Yourself
It quietly stops my breath to realize that my greatest grand gesture, my last, best act of love was to let you go.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Act Best Breathe Greatness Last Let Go Love Myself Quiet
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.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Learning Live Mindset Myself Prison Trade Wings
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
Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Blood Easy Myself Poetry
Our story bleeds from my eyes until I cannot tell the stars from streetlights.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Blood Eyes Light Ourselves Stars Story
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”.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Bad Blood Bone Break Day Direction Fingers Leadership Power Result River Skin
If we are what we love, Then I am whatever you are made of.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Love Myself Relationship Yourself
The day I made peace with my pain was the day I was born again.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Born Myself Pain Peace

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