I have imprinted on you and all those miles between us only keep us apart because we let them.
Hurricanes are named after people, baby, and I hope you know that falling in love with me will be so much more treacherous than boarding up the windows and waiting for me to pass.
If only I had known then the speed with which she could die, maybe I wouldn’t have become the hemlock.
Standing on the doorstep of desire, I hold this bouquet like a gun and these vows like a petition for the death penalty.
What I mean is you make the world less ugly just by living in it.
The love we shared is a paper town on a map we drew ourselves, drunk and fucked and needing to be more than we were.
Blood banks are all closed; you can’t use others to keep you warm.
The Smiths dream into my ear on this lost and lonely morning. I sing along like it is the only prayer I know (forgive me, Mother Mary).
Loving him is like trying to hold onto an armful of balloons. Maybe I need someone to come along and pop them.
This is not new territory. Stop lights like lullabies write my eulogy.
My favorite nightcap, after all this time, is still the cocktail of you.
If we are simply energy, neither created or destroyed, and if a body is just a body, celestial or not, why don’t you come over here and we will make collisions out of moments.
You can tell a lot about a person by listening to the way they talk about someone they once loved.
It occurred to me that love, simply stated, is replacing the need to always be right with the need to be understanding.
I’m just a broken person looking for other broken people who may have gotten shards of me stuck in their feet and aren’t too concerned about pulling them out.
Are you using your pain as an excuse or as a source of strength?
The moonlight melts into lace across your thighs. Unbridled passion, an Elliott Smith vinyl, and the intimate place of you.
I’m slipping. I’m made of departed dreams and a stubborn fog that feels nothing like a veil.
And all the while I thought I was drowning, I was actually the one holding my head under the water.
We’re so infatuated with studying labels that we forget to read between the lines of one another.
Don’t ever let anyone keep your heart on a shelf just to take it down whenever it is convenient for them to feel.
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