“So sick of us calling this ugly feeling grief.”

Sometimes the thing that destroys you also kisses you on the forehead.

If home is where the heart is, then I don’t know where to go.

As you buy tampons you will be hit with the realization that you’re still paying in blood.

She spends an eternity as shelter for men who curse her when the storm passes.

When a black girl dies; the last thing to decompose is her heart.

Alone is the safest I have ever felt.

These hands keep a score of everything.

I poured myself from an empty cup but you weren’t even thirsty.

Brown girls are not band aids for your pain.

I am just a bunch of bad decisions glued together.

You look most like your father when you smile. It’s your ultimate betrayal.

You are a multiple choice exam and I have circled all the wrong answers.

Heaven is not something you need to die to get to.

Black don’t crack: It does bruise, though. It does rupture into a new sky.

I wish I was as good at love as I am at falling apart.

I am always becoming a new tragedy. Trading one torture for another. Forever versatile in this becoming.

I swear my bones can feel it whenever you speak my name.

But, at the moment, when I step on the pitch, when I have the ball I know it’s mine. It’s just a feeling.

It was always you who felt like water when my whole body was a flame.

I definitely feel there’s room for improvement.

You can’t get bored of winning. You can win 10 games in a row but you keep the same will to snatch the 11th. You always need more.

It is important for me to feel at home.

I feel a bit awkward playing in a red shirt out at Wimbledon. But I don’t dislike it.

Regardless of how you feel inside, always try to look like a winner.