But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back. There is no bruise like the bruise loneliness kicks into your spine.

The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems. Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.

I said to the sun, ‘Tell me about the big bang.’ The sun said, ‘it hurts to become.

Do you think anger is a sincere emotion or the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?

and I wonder if Beethoven held his breath the first time his fingers touched the keys the same way a soldier holds his breath the first time his finger clicks the trigger. We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.

I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror
 on a day you’re feeling good. 
I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror
 on a day you’re feeling bad.
 I wanna know the first person who taught you your beauty
 could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass.

Lately I've been thinking about who I want to love, and how I want to love, and why I want to love the way I want to love, and what I need to learn to love that way, and how I need to become to become the kind of love I want to be. And when I break it all down, when I whittle it into a single breath, it essentially comes out like this: before I die, I want to be somebody's favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.