A doctor once told me I feel too much. I said, so does god. that’s why you can see the grand canyon from the moon.

she's wondering how many women are walking around this world feeling the tingling of their amputated wings remembering what it was to fly to sing

Everything but "I LOVE YOU" is small talk.

This is my heartbeat like yours, it is a hatchet It can build a house or tear one down.

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.

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

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.