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In the absence of you I look to the moon and pray that the stars light my way, too.

Stephanie Briar

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Absence Light Moon Myself Prayer Stars Way

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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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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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Trauma has deep roots indeed, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pull the weeds.
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Our story bleeds from my eyes until I cannot tell the stars from streetlights.
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If we are what we love, Then I am whatever you are made of.
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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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Love me until oblivion paints your portraits on my eyelids, sinking by eons into distance that never separates us.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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

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Creatives are neither born nor created. They are activated.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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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.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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

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“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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The glint of mischief in your eyes is the flint in my matchstick. Striking; always this close to igniting.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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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.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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I am a phoenix living in a culture of vultures.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Culture Live Myself

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