So I guess this is the next big thing. And I guess that’s when it starts to hit me: the whole point is, you do what you can.
Kiss Kent. Really kiss him, slow and long, somewhere outside – maybe while it’s snowing. Maybe standing in the woods. He’ll lean forward and he’ll have little snowflakes on his eyelashes again and he’ll brush the hair away from my face and put a warm hand behind my neck, so warm it’s almost burning –.
Birds feed; then they nest. Paint them any color you want, send them halfway around the world, but they’ll always find a way back. And eventually they’ll show their true colors again.
Perfect. There’s the word again: a locked-door word – stifling, strangling.
Julian will go to the gallows for us, and we will smile, and dream of victory – hazy-red, soon to come, a blood-colored dawn.
And thinking never did anybody any good, no matter what your teachers and parents and the science-club freaks tell you.
Pretend to be calm and happy when really I’m freaking out. It’s one of the skills you perfect as you get older.
Beautiful,” and when his eyes meet mine I know that he really, truly means it.
Coincidences; mix-ups; harmless mistakes and switches. And so a story is born.
You may never know Hell, but you will not find Heaven, either.
What’s poetry?” I’ve never heard the word before, but I like the sound of it. It sounds elegant and easy, somehow, like a beautiful woman turning in a long dress.
She knew that this day, this feeling, couldn’t last forever. Everything passed; that was partly why it was so beautiful. Things would get difficult again. But that was okay too.
There’s no way to escape the crushing sense of loss, the endless exhaustion of time sawing away at the people and things I’ve loved.
A name that brings a taste of sunshine, and of sunshine raising mist from the trees, and of mist reaching toward the sky.
He looks funny in a suit jacket, like a bear dressed up in costume for the circus. I would never tell him that, though.
It’s worse than a disease. It’s a poison.
The flyers lift and sigh in unison, like a thousand people waving white handkerchiefs, a thousand people waving good-bye.
It’s funny, isn’t it? When you are young you just want to be old, and then later you wish you could go back to being a kid.
And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.
Hearts are fragile things. That’s why you have to be so careful.