Love isn’t always magic. Sometimes it’s just melting.
Fear is only a verb if you let it be. Don’t you dare let go of my hand!
Yes, I like girls; Yes, I like boys; I like boys who like boys; I like girls who wear toys and girls who don’t; I like girls who don’t call themselves girls; Crew cuts or curls or that really bad hair phase in between.
I have always been comfortable weathering the storm. I’d like to get more comfortable weathering the sunny day.
Someday we will dare to trade good for true.
You can have a cold war with yourself, even in the summertime.
You have to understand when it hurt to love her, it hurt the way the light hurts your eyes in the middle of the night, but I had to see.
Listen, I know you run your mouth so your mind can rest.
You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy. I have never met a heavy heart that wasn’t a phone booth with a red cape inside. Some people will never understand the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside.
I wrote too many poems in a language I did not yet know how to speak.
So build yourself as beautiful as you want your world to be. Wrap yourself in light then give yourself away with your heart, your brush, your march, your art, your poetry, your play. 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.
Some people will never understand the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside.
I am so grateful for having a mind that can be changed.
If love did not exist I would be so goddamn sane my poems would be billboards. Suburbia would be enough. I would not have to gut myself to find my spine crushed into powder and brushed on her cheekbones. My hair would not be a hummingbird’s nest. My mind would not have to move so fast to rest.
I started talking to the stars in the sky instead. I said, “Tell me about the big bang.” The stars said, “It hurts to become.
I do not wear a welcome mat on my chest just so people can walk all over it fumbling with the keys to the locks they keep building for the doors I keep opening hoping someone will see the rainforest growing in my living room.
She makes me feel like I could win the lottery with a parking ticket.
There is no weapon more dangerous than a wound.
Love is the only war worth dying for. But every time I say ‘please, come back’, I feel like I’m trying to find a dirty needle into a haystack.
Beating yourself up is never a fair fight.