“Maybe everything really does just have an expiration date—one that you can’t see until she tells you she’s leaving, and then she’s gone.”
“Maybe everything really does just have an expiration date—one that you can’t see until she tells you she’s leaving, and then she’s gone.”
Laura Miller
“How does the story really go?Does she ever cross your mind?Does she ever steal your nights?Is she still a part of you?Do you ever wish she were still by your side?And what would you do?If she walked up here tomorrow And told you that she loved you?Would you drop it all and run to her?Would you tell her you love her too?Or would you simply send her home?And tell her you’ve moved on?Tell me, Buddy, what would you do?”
Laura Miller, Butterfly Weeds“More than every once in awhile,More than most dreams,More than just my heart,More than anything,More than you know,And more than I can say,I’ve loved you moreEvery passing day”
Laura Miller, Butterfly Weeds“I just want you to know that I love you with everything I am—a million times a million and to the moon and back.”
Laura Miller, My Butterfly“Maybe we knew each other in another life. Or maybe we were just meant to find each other in this one.”
Laura Miller, For All You Have Left“Because I seeA rainstorm in JuneJust before the sunThe black of nightJust before the starsAnd, girl, I see your ghostJust before our dawn”
Laura Miller, My Butterfly“Desperation will drive you to do things you know will never make you whole again and even to lose the very thing you’re desperate for.”
Laura Miller, My Butterfly“I set my face toward the sun again, and I think about my old life—the one I feel as though I’ve abandoned somehow. It hurts to think of it that way. And even though I know it wasn’t perfect, I look back now, and all I see is perfection. Every soft whisper, every spoken word, every gentle touch—it’s all perfect. Time won’t let me see it otherwise. They’re all just perfect memories—perfect, untouchable moments that came and went so softly that they almost feel as if they were always just a dream.”
Laura Miller, For All You Have Left“She was also a memory, the worst kind of memory--the kind that pulled you to your knees at just the sound of her name.”
Laura Miller, My Butterfly“Brooke was always my summer. She’ll always be my summer. And I had already made my choice a long time ago. Loving Brooke was what I was made to do.”
Laura Miller, By Way of AccidentAll in One Creative & Marketing Platform to tell stories at scale
