“I write only because There is a voice within me That will not be still.”

How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into.

I felt wise and cynical as all hell.

I am myself. That is not enough.

Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams.

I want to be important. By being different. And these girls are all the same.

Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.

Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it

Please, I want so badly for the good things to happen.

Opinions are like orgasms, mine matters most and I really don’t care if you have one.

I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love.

If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed.

I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.

The abstract kills, the concrete saves.

I find myself absolutely fulfilled when I have written a poem.

I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love.

If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed.

You were poetry in a dark hallway whispering to know me in a psychotic way the way your neck tattoos straddle my throat I’m envious of every girl you’ve ever known.

If nothing else you have inspired me to write beautiful poetry if nothing else I bring words to the table with me.

Writing spiteful poetry in a chapel I realized I have to love you no matter what you do.

As much as I read our story, I tried finding the conflict that our story had. I flipped the pages and ripped pages, looking for words that somehow kept our story going.

Your poems are so beautiful I almost forgot the pain you lived to pen them-from pain comes with beautiful things.

The art of harvesting pain – poetry.

Poetry is not a cure for sadness but it makes the pain bearable.

Her poetry  – a sweet symphony of madness.