Sierra DeMulder Quotes & Sayings

Breathing is not the process of being filled
and emptied: breathing is the act
of actually making love to the whole world,
which is to say the world is
your lover, which is to say love the whole
world, in all sweaty folds
and scabbed pockmarks, which is to say
love your dirty corners, your
stalk-like legs and barrel hips, love all
the no and the no and the no
that brought you rigth here, to this moment
and love the yes. The yes:
the breath that found its way to you, built
a home in your blood cells,
changed itself to better suit you and for it,
tonight, you say: I was made to
breathe and move and give, which is to say love.
Love. I was made to love. — Sierra DeMulder

You wonder why I don't
answer your 3 a.m. phone calls.
When you say "I miss you",
I begin to undress myself out of habit. — Sierra DeMulder

I have calculated the total number of hours
we spend sleeping beside each other in a week
and I wanted to tell you it could be considered
a full-time job. We could be eligible for healthcare
benefits, could probably even pay for a mortgage
by now. I remind myself of this, in daylight, when
I miss you and cannot reach across the bed
for the comforting filling and refilling
of your chest. Such a strange affair
we are having on each other; these hours
that I have not lost but do not remember.
This cannot be the best of love: to drool
on someone's collarbone or inhale an elbow to
the jaw or be woken by the most ungraceful sounds
of the body. But what is it if not the softening
of grips? A letting go of. Your heart
finally slowly that stubborn, lonely march. — Sierra DeMulder

Writing a list of ways I could be better
and writing a suicide note
are the same thing — Sierra DeMulder

When I feel myself falling out of love with you,
I turn the record of your laughter over, reposition the needle.
I dust the dirty living room of your affection.
-Love, Forgive Me — Sierra DeMulder

My body is a dead language and you pronounce each word perfectly. — Sierra DeMulder

My sister told me a soul mate is not the person
who makes you the happiest but the one who
makes you feel the most, who conducts your heart
to bang the loudest, who can drag you giggling
with forgiveness from the cellar they locked you in.
It has always been you.
-Love, Forgive Me — Sierra DeMulder

When he sleeps,
the snoring does not bother me:
the rhythmic growl, gravel shoved
across the sidewalk of his throat.
It is the grasping, desperate way
in which he takes in air - his gulping lungs
as if every dream is filled with water
and he is trying to inflate
the life jacket under his skin.
I babble in my sleep. He believes
I am trying to tell him how my heart works,
says he will translate the manual one day.
I want to ask him: am I the ocean?
Are you drowning in everything
I don't say when I'm awake?
- Heart Apnea — Sierra DeMulder

I loved you head over handles
like my first bicycle accident
before the mouthful of gravel and blood,
I swore we were flying.
-Cycle of Abuse — Sierra DeMulder

Your body is not a temple.
Your body is the house you grew up in.
How dare you try to burn it to the ground.
You are bigger than this.
You are bigger
than this. — Sierra DeMulder

Your body is the house you grew up in. How dare you try to burn it to the ground. — Sierra DeMulder

You are a souvenir shop, where he goes to remember how much people miss him when he is gone. — Sierra DeMulder