Christopher Poindexter Quotes

And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.

I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons

Sometimes I sit alone under the stars and think of the galaxies inside my heart and truly wonder if anyone will ever want to make sense of all that I am

Not only did I love her, but I could tell the universe loved her, too. More than others. She was different. After all; I would be a fool not to notice the way the sunshine played with her hair.

It was rather beautiful: the way he put her insecurities to sleep. The way he dove into her eyes and starved all the fears and tasted all the dreams she kept coiled beneath her bones.

She writes things with her movements that I for the life of me could never write with a pen.

She stared at the stars like they were pillow for her mind and in their light she could rest her heavy head.

Your darkness is a symphony Played in explosions of silence to a crowd that has fallen in love with noise If they refuse to applaud you It isn't because your music isn't beautiful It is because they have no idea how to love what they don't understand And that, my darling, is the most horrific flaw in this mixed up world

she lived with hurricane eyes and fell in love with the way the waves collapsed against her cheeks.

She was strange and beautiful and those were human qualities that I had never seen Weaved together before. She became terrifying to me, not because I feared who she was, but for the sake of love, I feared what she could do to me.

My hunger for writing will die when I have bled for the humans that never found the strength to find the words themselves

Nothing brings to life again a forgotten memory like a fragrance.

We are the scientists, trying to make sense of the stars inside us.

I can love things just by watching her love them. That is how I know, that I love her.

She buried her ears into the calm of his heartbeat, and in a matter of seconds; fell terribly in love with the way her loneliness fell softly and suddenly, asleep, in his chest.

through all the weariness and depression and troubled sighs at the end of the wailing day it was enough to remove my clothing crawl into bed and kiss her in places the sun never touches." -Christopher Poindexter

If darkness is really not darkness at all, but rather, the absence of light, then my flaws are not really flaws at all, but rather, the absence of you.

Tears are the silent passion for suffering

I watched a girl in a sundress kiss another girl on a park bench, and just as the sunlight spilled perfectly onto both of their hair, I thought to myself: ‘How bravely beautiful it is, that sometimes, the sea wants the city, even when it has been told its entire life it was meant for the shore.

Loneliness burns in towers of fire around us

The human spirit is poetry enough and I understand that, but I write to make it transparent to a world in love with bright screens and rising technology.

Chaos is an angel who fell in love with a demon

Never ever go by the book. They will want you to, but you musn’t. If the lust is too strong, tear one page from a hundred books and make your own way. There is no formula for life, no equation on how to be a human being.

If darkness is really not darkness at all, but rather, the absence of light,  then my flaws are not really flaws at all,  but rather, the absence of you. ~ Christopher Poindexter

I just want to smoke my cigarettes & drink my whiskey & for you to love me for the monster I am.

tears are a silent passion for suffering- i found ma self baffeld by hers- the way they trickled in the presence if moonlight, driven by the humans didnt undrstand her...

sometimes i just feel impossible. like life wasn't meant for me. like it was an interview i showed up to drunk out of my mind.

And she tucked herself away in a corner, quet and foreign to the crowd around her and all that kept racing through my head is that the best kind of beauty is the kind that is mostly ignored.

I read her eyes like paragraphs and her tears like chapters for she didn't have much to say with words, but rather, silence. And never let them tell you that silence, isn't beautiful. For silence is what happens when words fall asleep and you must carry the belief that one day they will wake up inside of you.

I admit, I was afraid to love. Not just love, but to love her. For she was a stunning mystery. She carried things deep inside her that no one has yet to understand, and I, I was afraid to fail, like the others. She was the ocean and i was just a boy who loved the waves but was completely terrified to swim.

Some people fall in love with the idea of things and others fall in love with the actual things. Falling in love with an idea is but an illusion. That is how I know she is the one. I feel her in my bones and not just in my head.

i still have the scarlet scarf you gave me. it smells of your wild freedom. if only we could feel what we remember and not just remember what we felt.

what i admire most about her is that she knows how to fuck reality and make love to fantasy, not something many other humans know how to do. imagination, is her drink.

I close my eyes softly and fell in love with the way I remembered you: body, soul and all.” ~ Christopher Poindexter

if you are not crazy, i mean absolutely crazy about what you love, then i beg you, either find a way to be insanely crazy about it or throw it away. you were not born with half an ass human therefore you have no right to half-ass the intensity in which you love.

do you believe in the death penalty?" he asked her. "you mean being sober?" she laughed.

maybe people are no longer beautiful to us because we construct them with our thoughts, walking around the earth building humans like we are gods.

she is all things men want to love, but could never handle.

fall in love with expressing yourself. it does not matter how you do it. you understand, creature? dance until your feet erode into the earth, sing until your lungs cave in, be silent until the world understands the absence of noise is beautiful. express whoever you are because what you are is essential.

It is the feeling of never knowing what we want that truly drives us all mad.... Holding things because we think in a moment we love them only to uncurl our fingers later and softly give them back to the earth.

so i will say this- give me your suffering and i swear it will be carried even if that means the death of sorrow inside you and the birth of sorrow inside me.

The thing about chaos, is that while it disturbs us, it too forces our hearts to roar in a way we secretly find magnificent

she was the kind of woman who only gave herself away in small doses, leaving men wandering like little children at all that she was. she tortured them with the sound of her fading footsteps, each one an exclamation mark to a sentence the world tragically instilled in her long ago "find something beautiful, then let it go.

i am something new" you must tell yourself. "i am the beginning and end of a story that will never be liver again. i am new earth and new air and new words. i am as fresh as birth. i am significant.

give me the world but for Christ's sake, do not sugercoat it. give me it raw and gleaming with truth. i want the madness to twirl me around until i can no longer stand. i refuse to be drunk on a soft world. the world is cruel, my love, you must understand that, but in that understanding you must understand this, too, just because it is cruel does not mean it is not beautiful.

it was you and i that night by the sea, two bottles of wine and a bowl deep, we kissed and made love as the moon and waves talked business.

We know so perfectly how to give birth to the monsters inside us, but for reasons I will never figure out, we have not the slightest clue of what to do with all the love.

every morning i see a cup of coffee in front of my sleepy eyes but i am starting to see things differently, because of you. now i see beans, once tossed in hands and broken down in machines and placed in bags sent off somewhere where the tired people gather. i see that only because your tenderness has taught me that we must look beyond the body of everything and into the soul of all.

the gate around heaven was crowded when we arrived together. you looked at me and giggled and with whiskey on your rose breath you led me to some place higher. i always knew you were beyond them. i just wasn't sure how far.

I have a difficult time balancing letting people be who they are and standing up for what I believe.

If I shall die before her, I beg of you, whoever is in control— God, cosmos, nature, ocean— give my body to the sun so that every time it finds its way to her flesh she is never without the warmth of my love.

when the wine is gone and you remove your tired body from your steaming bath, come to bed. do not worry about putting on your night clothes, naked you'll come as you know the moon loves the sight of your bare flesh through the window. the sheets are calling your name my dear. come as you are. there is enough love in me to birth an entirely new universe and to it we can run whenever this world becomes too heavy for our shaking shoulders.

nestle up with me now and let us fall in love with the feeling of our worries spilling into the sheets. nestle up with me now, let us give birth to seeds of whispering moans and let those coil with our bones as we tumble in love with the blooming echo. nestle up with me now, let us grow old and die delicate in each other's arms for my god what an exquisite honor it would be to erode from this crumbling earth all the while being washed in your lover's grains, nestle up with me.

I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons.

I want to fall in love with someone’s spirit. Not what they look like, or what they do. I want to fall in love with simply who they are every minute of every day. I want essence.

the details of anything you love are always what is most thrilling, most poignant, most important. i loved her as she rose from bed and fell back against it again, and all she did in-between. when you love someone you accept them, you become them in a way, and all they do forms into you. their mannerisms turn into truth- the way she holds her favorite coffee mug, the way she laughs, the way she smells, the way her lips curl after certain words. all of the simple things suddenly become gigantic things and light up the world before you like a flame thrown into the clouds. what a breathtaking display. the way the earth begins to dissolve in your periphery and a human being replaces it. no matter what they tell you- a person is a universe when truly loved and anything less is not love at all.

Some people fall in love with the idea of things and others fall in love with the actual things. Falling in love with an idea is but an illusion. That is how I know she is the one. I feel her in my bones and not just in my head.

do you want to know how to seduce the night? this is not a poem about the stars or the moon because we all know i have overused those terms and i believe with the abundance of anything brings with it a deadly exhaustion we all cannot afford. if you truly want to fuck the night and i mean fuck it hard and with purpose so that fucking becomes making love and making love becomes forever then i suggest you get off your lazy ass and create art. create it with your soul and your soul alone and do not be afraid of what spills out of it. no matter the absurdness or the darkness or the sadness just let yourself be free.

And in the end, we were all just humans... drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.

in the end i would rather be able to say i loved too much than not enough

We are all scientists trying to make sense of the stars inside us.

daydreaming fondly of deathbed love. love that stays, at all costs.

And in the end, we were all humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness." -Christopher Poindexter

I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons.

And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness. - Christopher Poindexter

The universe wrote fiction in us; it’s called fear.