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

To think, a sweater, is made entirely of knots. My stomach could clothe a village.

You never wish on shooting stars. You wish on the ones that have the courage to shine where they are.

For Halloween I'm gonna be emotionally stable. No one's gonna know it's me.

If love did not exist, I would be so goddamn sane.

I’ve written this poem before but always through a window, never through an open door.

...And for every day you paint the war, take a week and paint the beauty, the color, the shape of the landscape you’re marching towards. Everyone knows what you’re against; show them what you’re for.