“Thank God there are places with sounds that make me cry from beauty, not from pain.” — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“Maybe he, like me, is engaged in the kind of unspoken rebellion you don't want to perform too brightly since you're never certain anyone… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“It is strange to hear my words Read back to me. I don't think I wrote them To have them ever leave the page.… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“Wish my life were inside a book So I could turn to the ending, See if it is a love story Or a gothic… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“The dusty library air is electric with secrets/ almost palpable in the thick quiet that bounces between/ Cal and those books and me” — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“I wish I could concentrate on dancing Instead of spending so much time pretending I am still in junior high But with Rem, I… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“Am I lonelier now Than when my sad imagination Had him disappear? Heart torn, Loosing tiny droplets Of sorrow No tape can measure No… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“Thank God there are places with sounds that make me cry from beauty, not from pain.” — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“Does it matter that people and things Have words, Have names? If not, Why read any book? A litany of useless letters Detached from… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“I feel his arm Lightly Over me. He takes one of my outstretched hands. Draws it beneath my stomach. "One more time..." This is… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“The tips of my overgrown bangs dip into the wet of my tears. My fingers, forehead, moisten with sweat. I fight the slipperiness, press… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“Do I dare ask him for what I want, As if I knew it, Could find it on some page In some chapter In… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“Dare I tell them that since I came here to dance I have been giving pieces of my body away To ridiculous diets, To… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
“Her body disappears like my voice When I look too closely in the mirror Without the pages of a notebook, a pen To save… — Stasia Ward Kehoe Copy Share Image
