Top 57 Gwen Calvo Quotes
#1. Loving you is kissing the night, exposing the scars, words in flames, for every drop and for every life.
Gwen Calvo
#3. I hold you in my mouth, in the words that contain you, in the unsaid and the haunts, in all the forms your name.
Gwen Calvo
#4. Sometimes you need to. Just to love yourself. appreciate loves. And live.
Gwen Calvo
#6. He loves her for a reason and its not rational
Gwen Calvo
#7. He breaks her waves on all his edges.
Gwen Calvo
#8. Souls bound by infinite coincidences.
Gwen Calvo
#9. You taste of the sea, of clocks, dark nights, of everything that is soothing and prohibited. Of dawn in the eyes, falling snow and destiny.
Gwen Calvo
#11. Finding yourself with your loves gives blood to existence, looking at one another seeing the universe.
Gwen Calvo
#12. And our love still is, it is because it goes, like a kiss, from mouth to mouth, repeating itself in silence.
Gwen Calvo
#13. she is the sea he listens to with his hands
Gwen Calvo
#14. The sand storm carries words but feelings not even a hurricane.
Gwen Calvo
#15. He holds her in this moment and the world disappears.
Gwen Calvo
#16. Face in the Sun with the dark circles of beautiful nights the mouths of tigers.
Gwen Calvo
#17. He lights the violin and his mouth fills with fireflies.
Gwen Calvo
#18. Under the Sun of the night. The Sun in winter is addictive. And at night like it is. To be in the forest and wait for a rain of sighs.
Gwen Calvo
#19. if you want to heal a wound you have to stop touching it.
Gwen Calvo
#20. Being words, being lips that bleed.
Gwen Calvo
#21. She is his word his love she brings the blood back to his lips.
Gwen Calvo
#22. In the forest, I like you like that without anesthesia.
Gwen Calvo
#23. I confess to the trees, priests of dreams.
Gwen Calvo
#24. Lips, red, ruby, like the blood, like the words.
Gwen Calvo
#25. Undress its cold. And with a kiss accentuate the scars.
Gwen Calvo
#26. I write scars and dead butterflies.
Gwen Calvo
#27. The edge of the sea masks a clock that marks the waves.
Gwen Calvo
#28. In the distance, a Benz motor sounds. A neon light wraps itself around the driver and the winter that beats in his heart. His heart stays cold. stays melting.
Gwen Calvo
#30. He falls in love because he doesnt want to.
Gwen Calvo
#32. The fog between the trees of ghosts who lift suns.
Gwen Calvo
#33. She has survived but she doesnt know what.
Gwen Calvo
#34. Sunflowers hellos from gate to gate. The hour at the square. Candy, art, books, look. A warmth given. Beauties with rain forest hair Walk by the clock tower. Sunlight of neon, the keys inside their eyes. No storms. Traffic sounds, salt air. Salt that moves the thirst and destroys all the fears.
Gwen Calvo
#35. Music repairs us when it breaks the silence.
Gwen Calvo
#36. Descending thru your voice like a song, like a cascade of orchids in an afternoon, eternal falls to the Sun.
Gwen Calvo
#37. Dreams, the veins of the universe.
Gwen Calvo
#38. Wait for it to rain and then go out into the street.
Gwen Calvo
#39. he is her home, a cemetery of poems.
Gwen Calvo
#40. He keeps her name on his hands, her body in his throat.
Gwen Calvo
#41. she is the poem that lives on his pages, burning in his hands, becoming beats all over his skin.
Gwen Calvo
#42. Your lips, an inverse chaos of stars.
Gwen Calvo
#43. The hands understand the language of dreams.
Gwen Calvo
#44. Everything is blood and vines. The mark of another day of revolving the body exact And the sky is ours our hope our blue our silence our throat of burning wildflowers.
Gwen Calvo
#45. Writing is taking the demons out for a walk.
Gwen Calvo
#46. It is the taste of cut steps, bloody fingerprints. Of healed books, smiles on fresh tulips. Of longing and sweet fatigue.
Gwen Calvo
#48. writing between the roots of distance, she.
Gwen Calvo
#51. Women are a poem of tousled tresses.
Gwen Calvo
#52. Her echo is the only reality in his silence.
Gwen Calvo
#53. The forest opened the road, his reeds in one fist, devotion in the other, a bow on the back, words as petals, and a blood-stained smile.
Gwen Calvo
#54. Indigo sky, because the heart is also a sunset.
Gwen Calvo
#55. My home is your blood, your tongue, your laughter, your earth and hands, always your hands.
Gwen Calvo
#56. The poetry of painted collarbones and scratched bleeding knees.
Gwen Calvo
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