I close my eyes and focus on breathing. ‘You can talk to me. Just don’t touch me.’ 7 seconds of silence join the conversation. ‘Maybe I want to touch you.
These words are vomit. This shaky pen is my esophagus. This sheet of paper is my porcelain bowl. “Why won’t you answer.
But how?” she says, her voice breaking on the word. “How do I get them out of my head?” “Set them on fire.” Her eyes go wide. “In your mind,” I say, attempting a smile. “Let them fuel the fire that keeps you striving.” I reach out, touch my fingers to her cheek. “Idiots are highly flammable, love. Let them all burn in hell.
The sky is weeping for us.
Abused our atmosphere. Abused our animals. Abused our fellow man.
Because Warner is beautiful in ways even Adam isn’t.
Alice had hoped to be brave – she’d hoped she was stronger than her fears – but Alice was injured on the inside; and though her anger kept her upright, it couldn’t keep her steady, and from moment to moment Alice would slip.
My organs are dead, my bones are cracked, my skin is a sieve, punctured by pins and needles of pain.
Loving Father meant loving all of him – his open windows as well as his dusty corners – and she refused to love him less for secrets unknown. Alice had secrets, too, didn’t she? And she was beginning to realize that part of growing up meant growing tender, and that secrets were sometimes wrapped around tender things to keep them safe.
I love you, ” he says, his words harsh and soft all at once. “ I love you and it isn’t enough. I thought it would be enough and I was wrong. I thought I could fight for you and I was wrong. Because I can’t. I can’t even face you anymore – ” “ Aaron – ” “ Tell me it isn’t true, ” he says. “ Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m blind. Tell me you love me.
This was my safe space; my only escape from the world.
Cracks begin to form along my face, all the way down my arms, my torso, my legs. I imagine this is what it’s like to fall apart.
They think I’m a doll they can dress up and twist into prostration. But.
It would be a waste, to lose something I’ve invested so much time in.
The sun is an arrogant thing, always leaving the world behind when it tires of us. The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do.
You have disappointed me in so many ways,” he says, his voice deceptively soft. “Please don’t let this be another.
No.” A short, crazed laugh. “Juliette. Please. Please. Don’t tell me he’s filled your head with romantic notions. Please don’t tell me you fell for his false proclamations –.
The sun had folded itself away and the moon was in no hurry to replace it.
But here, in the silent explosion of my heart, was a quiet that felt familiar.
Te amo, mi amor por ti nunca ha sido una mentira.