When he offers his lips, go for his throat.
My nights are for over-thinking; my days are for over-sleeping.
I don’t know what I am, but it claws and clutches at me as if I am worth reaching.
When I make him laugh, I feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.
Emma is not a person. Emma is a place that you get stuck in. Emma is a pain that you cannot erase.
So here we are again: me being here and you being off the map and me sending it out across the wires and being overheard. You’re making me work for this—the whisper system—and that’s okay, too. I was shooting my mouth off and you called me on it and yes, it’s been the plan all along, my great invention, a place for all these voices to land, the airport of someone else’s listening.
Go to sleep. Let darkness
lap at your sides. Give darkness an inch.
You aren’t alone. All of the continents used to be
one body. You aren’t alone. Go to sleep.
I like the sea: we understand one another. It is always yearning, sighing for something it cannot have; and so am I.
What a mistake, saying the way I felt.
I have a million things to talk to you about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.
Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting some on yourself.
Words are powerful things. They can break hearts and get panties wet.
And I began to let him go. Hour by hour. Days into months. It was a physical sensation, like letting out the string of a kite. Except that the string was coming from my center.