“ i’m going to love again so quietlyno one will know i’m home. ”
Why not laugh again, and let your joy be my monument?
~ Stephanie Roberts
Editing fiction is like using your fingers to untangle the hair of someone you love.
Baby, don't build a monument for me of your sadness. You wouldn't have wasted your tears when I was alive. Why make an ocean of them now when it's over? The future you dreamed is a dream. Dream something else.
You fill a hungry place shaped like your darkness.
