Baby, don't build a monument for me of your sadness. You wouldn't have wasted your tears when I was alive. Why make an ocean of them now when it's over? The future you dreamed is a dream. Dream something else.

— stephanie roberts

Editing fiction is like using your fingers to untangle the hair of someone you love.

— stephanie roberts

I am protective of the gentle slope of stomach bulging like an early pregnancy, at my waist. I've earned its existence with everything I've been forced to swallow.

— stephanie roberts

I’m going to love again so quietly no one will know I’m home.

— stephanie roberts

Nostalgia is best cured via horse whipping.

— stephanie roberts

Why not laugh again, and let your joy be my monument?

— stephanie roberts

You fill a hungry place shaped like your darkness.

— stephanie roberts