Every morning, we get a chance to be different. A chance to change. A chance to be better. Your past is your past. Leave it there. Get on with the future part.
You have a right to experiment with your life. You will make mistakes. And they are right too. No, I think there was too rigid a pattern. You came out of an education and are supposed to know your vocation. Your vocation is fixed, and maybe ten years later you find you are not a teacher anymore or you’re not a painter anymore. It may happen. It has happened. I mean Gauguin decided at a certain point he wasn’t a banker anymore; he was a painter. And so he walked away from banking. I think we have a right to change course. But society is the one that keeps demanding that we fit in and not disturb things. They would like you to fit in right away so that things work now.
Not everyone you lose is a loss.
I want a lover with
poems for every centimeter
of my body.
That sucks the sweet
from my mouth.
That grows in me;
we grow in each other.
That listens with the pool
of his dark eyes;
eyes that take flight in ecstasy.
with no definition for Love,
but driven by palpitations.
churning ways of empathy.
Listening to you,
reminds me this bed is a
the only lone
print of my body,
and that un-dented
Forgiving isn’t something you do for someone else. It’s something you do for yourself. It’s saying, ‘You’re not important enough to have a stranglehold on me.’ It’s saying, ‘You don’t get to trap me in the past. I am worthy of a future.
Who but the mad would choose to keep on living? In the end, aren’t we all just a little crazy?
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Nothing can dim the light which shines from within.