And you… do you know what you are? Stupid? Beautiful, he says, his face turning red.

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

For she was the only one, of all of them, to have spared me a pleasant word; and suddenly I longed for time to pass, not for its own sake, but as it would take me back to her.

whispers are often thunderous

As a poet there is something about joy I find hard to express, whereas every other emotion is rather simple. For instance, you never feel so bad that you can't describe how bad you feel, but joy on...

His impulsive bust had been as beautiful as a first kiss to a child. And, she felt, as important.

I have no way to describe this, and I am positive that this is all just a horrible dream I have yet to wake up from. The vice principle is insane. My own uncle is insane. Those stupid kids are insane....

My heart beats so hard, I feel like I have an earthquake inside of me. It's weighing me down and my hands shake with the need of safety and comfort.

Every single time you looked at me, through the corner of your eye and smiled. My heart pushed the ribs with all the force towards my lungs, until it got crushed and I could not breathe anymore.

The new kind of music seems to create not from the heart but from the head. Its composers think rather than feel. They have not the capacity to make their works exalt - they meditate, protest,...

Right. So what I don't understand is why everyone is mad at me, instead of realizing that I am the one who has been wronged here. Not a single person has come up to me and said, "I'm really sorry this...

Without poetry, love has no exuberance.

I am love. I am drowning in your love. I am drunk with your love. I am dumb for your love. I am crazy about your love. I dream at night about love. I know that you're my love, but I forgot how to love...

This bullet can go straight through the couch. He was right. Fuck Ikea for making such flimsy furniture.

It's loud inside my head, with those words I want to say to you.

If this were a novel, I'd stop reading right now. I'd throw it across the room.

I spoke fire, laughed smoke, and madness spilled forth from my inspiration.

Fee - fi - fo - fum - Now I'm borrowed. Now I'm numb.

Grief is a house where the chairs have forgotten how to hold us, the mirrors how to reflect us, the walls how to contain us. Grief is a house that disappears each time someone knocks at the door or...

He wanted to paddle her himself, then shake her, then sit her down in a chair and explain to her why she must never, ever get herself in a situation where she could be shot at again - and then throw...

I shudder, I see the love, I'm doomed, my heart melts again - can't stand not to be in love, can't stand not to be melting with real tenderness, childlike need sweetnesses, that's what's wrong with...

All I think when I look at you is hallelujah

I hate her skinny thighs and her elitist attitude. I hope she's a dreadful bitch who makes you so miserable that you howl when you remember me.

"Your friend Lila is calling from her car phone," Ned said, half amused and half annoyed. "Apparently something earth-shattering has come up, and unless she can talk to you this very second, she...

And then people ask me what I mean in {words torn out}. I hope you were among the six who understood or half understood my 'Poet's Vow' - that is, if you read it at all. Uncle Hedley made a long pause...

Well…damn. It was so hard not to notice how beautiful he was, how kind, how smart and loving, how considerate.

Wrath, what do you say? 'Fuck,' came the reply. Appropriate word choice, my lord, but not really an answer.

I know girls aren't supposed to tell, but I've got to tell - just in case you should fail to love me because you never knew how much I loved you. I want not to have to say later - I wish I'd told him.

I'm here because she's here, and she belongs to me. ~Rephaim

This song is for the guy who keeps yelling from the balcony, and it's called, 'We hate you, please die.'