Lucyquin Quotes

I have a terrible habit of
nurturing troubled boys
back to proper health as
if they were injured birds.






 

I’m losing parts of a person I’ll never really know again. death changes everybody. everyone eventually copes and moves forward, but they’re never really the same. everything will be a reminder, and although the pain will become more tolerable, it will never actually subside. I worry about christmas and thanksgiving, of birthdays and special occasions, of every constant reminder of what once was and what can no longer be. I worry that on the other end of this is a person I will no longer recognize until the heaviness has come for me.

  As I get older I made a promise to my body to never fault it for showing its age because it stuck by me, kept me company, like the ground underneath the Eiffel Tower, straining under the weight of something precious and I’d be wrong to disregard it after it has supported me.

“

being apologetic again, of abandoning all expectations in a topless car as I’m scattered like dust along an open roadway. And each part of me will go a different way, I’ll live a million different lives, I’ll see so many places and people, my eyes will get full and burst and it’ll start all over again. It is a madness that can never be harnessed, the desire to see all things, all people, all places. To never have to wake up in the same place twice, to live without regret that I am missing out on all the little things.

Love, much like a pressed flower between the pages of your favorite book. Kept and cherished until one day it becomes too brittle, crumbling in your hands, and all you’re left with are pieces of something once very beautiful.

 

 

I believe in the sun and the moon. It is a love that never fails me. One wakes up with me

and the other falls asleep with me, but most importantly they never leave me.

It is one of those days when the incessant chatter of birds can be mistaken for chirps of your name; I could have sworn when the creamer swirled into my coffee it spidered out in a shape very similar to your iris; the wind blew through the curtains and the familiar chill of loneliness danced up and down my body.

 

I WOKE FROM THE
DEAD OF WINTER
AND YOU SHOWED
ME       HOW       TO
BREATHE AGAIN.

 

No one really tells you how the incurable case of not belonging seeps through your adolescent years and right into your adult life. It doesn’t really matter how many calendar pages I turn, I know the heaviness of finding my place will be right there waiting for me.

But I don’t think anyone ever feels like they completely belong, we just stop noticing – like the abrupt yet somehow still discreet transition from winter into spring, when one day you wake up and it’s warm enough to leave without a jacket. And eventually it becomes so second nature you forget when it happened altogether.

I guess that’s what I’m waiting for – the cold intrusive feeling to lift one day so I can see what it’s like to live without being constantly reminded to keep myself warm.

Pieces of you shatter and fall away inside parts of me I never knew existed. I don’t feel at home in my own bones and my skin feels like a prison.