The Dark Between Stars

She was powerful not because she wasn’t scared but because she went on so strongly despite the fear.

I want to know every part of you, every scar, every bruise, I want to trace the map of you, my fingers a compass, your freckles the constellations which in my heart I will chart so when I close my eyes I’ll have you in my stars forever.

I love you most in that place between coffee and sleep.

We all wear scars— find someone who makes yours feel beautiful

We will never get back the life we waste trying to be normal

The bravest thing she ever did was to stay alive each day.

Sometimes, to be alone is the best company

You weren’t given wings to see the world from a tree.

You are worth your imperfections you are worth your bad days you are worth your good you are worth your confusion you are worth your insecurities you are worth fighting for and you are worth loving. And that’s a fck’ing fact.

Art has the answers to many of the questions we weren’t brave enough to ask.

I won’t ever find the words for you— you are my everything always and even that is not enough.

Don’t waste any more tomorrows on someone who wastes your todays.

Poets are souls at war with words from battles waged within.

I hate to be alone there are too many voices talking

I'm glad I found you because before you I never knew what to wish for.

LIFE IS THE ART OF FAILING MAGNIFICENTLY.

Love by its very nature is fragile and that’s what makes true love so powerful— you make a fragile thing strong

We are human bold & brilliant and we will rise always from the ashes of our doubt to wield our differences not as a weakness but as swords to take our beauty back

I love her because she steals my socks I love her because when I find her in them they never match I love her because they are always too big and the gray part for the heel sits far too high I love her because she wears them to sleep and one always falls off and then she wakes in the night and can’t find it and her foot is cold— that is why I love her

A troubled youth burnt me alive the poet came from the ashes the words came from the fire

We collided by mistake fate dancing in the rafters as I wandered the room until I saw you laughing to a friend and I closed my eyes so I could see the white swing the children laughing a thousand moments of happy and sad and old hands in old hands a life in a flash and there, in my open eyes - was you.

I love those laughs that come from deep within the kind that are catching to anyone close that make your stomach hurt and cry with tears of joy that kind that come when you least expect where the more you try to stop the harder it becomes and even when you think of them now you smile - those are the laughs of real old human magic.

And the little girl smiled, "Sunset," she said, "that is my favorite color.

She walked through life with the eyes of a wolf who belonged to no one but the night.

she was like that smell of a campfire burning in the distance warming you from far away.

Have you ever smelled a smell that brings you instantly back to a moment from your youth? I always loved that feeling. I hope that's what death is just sitting on clouds smelling old smells.

Love the one they are not the one they should be.

Loving him was like sinking into a warm bath lying there in the soft safety of his silence.

Some moments like some people are not meant to be fully understood so for now it's best we just call them miracles.

The problem with dating these days is that we compare real humans to the perfect potential of everyone we haven't met yet.