Courtney Peppernell

I asked you to ride shotgun with me.
I didn’t say hold the shotgun to my heart and
pull the trigger.

Breathe in, breathe out slowly and count to ten. There is no rulebook on how to cope when these things end. You may not feel it now, but things will get better, even if life doesn’t tell you when.

I understand why people take flight from bridges,
I understand why a girl holds a blade to her wrist,
I understand why a grown man cries counting all his lists.
What I wish for the world to understand,
is that in these fragile moments,
patience and love are needed most.

Everyone has a part inside
that aches with a sadness
sometimes you cannot hide.

May your weapon be kindness
Your shield compassion
May the flowers grow again
To sprout love from all this sadness

I feel as though I am always writing my first draft. As though my life is a series of edits that I never have time to complete.

It hurts a little and sometimes a lot

when you care about someone

but you’re both kind of messy

and the timing is all wrong

and you don’t feel like

kissing someone else

but you can’t force what’s not

and letting someone in

is scary enough

but even scarier

when your heart

isn’t as strong

That’s the thing about moving on. You are never going to find a love quite like the one before. The key is to stop wanting the same things and embrace the things to come.

There were many occasions when placing an out of order sign across your heart seemed the wisest decision to make. Only you didn’t. Instead you kept your heart open, invited people in. And even when they were reckless, messy and selfish you chose to remain open: a shift that never ends, a light that always stays on, a beacon in the darkest night, a melody that carries on. I am in awe of you: an open prairie amongst an ever-changing cycle of wind

I feel as though I am always writing my first draft. As though my life is a series of edits that I never have time to complete.