None of us are pretty, but our ugly has an alibi.

Remind me that the most fertile lands were built by the fires of volcanoes.

Hey, are you a boy or a — never mind, can I have a push on the swing?” And some day, y’all, when we grow up, it’s all gonna be that simple.

I would kiss you in the middle of the ocean during a lightning storm cuz I'd rather be left for dead than wondering what thunder sounds like.

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

If you ever reach enlightenment. will you remember how to laugh?

My heart is a parachute that has never opened in time.