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The wind kicks in stronger, branches clatter. Or maybe skeletons. Bones of abandonment. Ghosts that will never be.

Ellen Hopkins

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Ellen Hopkins
Age: 69
Born: 1955
Born: March 26
Novelist
Writer
Long Beach
California
Ellen Louise Hopkins
Wind
Skeletons
Maybe
Abandonment
Never
Ghosts
Kicks
Branches
Ghost
Bones
Stronger
Clatter

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The universe is a big place. If I was lost up there, how would you ever find me
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If I come back to you now, can we be what we were before life’s uncertain rhythms tore us so far apart? If I return today, will your arms gather me in, or will I be wrenched away, snatched by riptide I have no power to resist? If I find my way to you, one man standing in a crowd, will I even know who you are?
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When you've only got one little shimmer of sunshine, you capture it best you can.
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The problem with falling in love is falling back out of it again, usually because you've fallen in love with a lie. That happens as often as not.
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Clear. Cold. Empty. Like how I feel right now. Love is strange. One minute you’re jungle fever. The next you’re Artic winter.
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God i've missed you. I can't wait to give you your present. He kisses me hotter this time, and beneath me, through his denim and mine. I can feel the promise of his Christmas gift soon to come.
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Nonfiction speaks to the head. Fiction speaks to the heart. Poetry speaks to the soul. It's the essence of beauty. The essence of pain. It pleases the eye and the ear.
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Detailed descriptions, abstract ambitions, relevant observations, your's and mine.
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I'll Stay ...leave ...me. ...I'll ...follow ...you.
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Think long and hard before offering your heart to someone who can only accept it part-time
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Sad, that lives can be shattered, into so many pieces that they can never be put back together, the the relentless force of love. Irreparable.
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Red and raw like my heart, pried from your's, the two beating, no longer together, but a thousand miles between them when only yesterday they thumped in unison.
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This time when we kiss, I feel it in the pit of my stomach, I feel it in my heart. And I realize love isn't about sex. It's about connection.
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Puzzle pieces don't always connect do they?
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Eventually, it becomes a matter of scale. When the good outweighs the bad, you stay. When the bad is the only thing you notice anymore, you think about your future, or what's left of it, consider options.
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When you love someone, you don't want to hurt them, even if they deserve to be hurt. When you love someone, you want to hurt them, even when they don't deserve to be hurt.
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I know he wants to get serious. He's definitely not a player, not a poser, not a loser, not a user.
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You deserve good things, and I want to be one of them.
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The problem with being grounded is it gives you a whole lot of unavoidable time to think. NOt even pulling weeds can take away your ability to plot all the varied and wonderful things you might do to get even, or at least to make up, just get a smidgen for time lost to TV and yard work and house cleaning.
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Life is full of choices. We don't always make good ones. It seems to Kristina you gotta be crazy to open your windows, invite the demons in. Bree throws rocks at the feeble glass, laughs
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