I want to trust but it scares the skin off my bones.
You know, you have a really strange way of telling me you’re attracted to me.
My mind is a warehouse of carefully organized human emotions. I lock away the things that do not serve me.
Watching her talk to someone else made me crazy. I was jealous. Ridiculous. I wanted her to know me; I wanted her to talk to me. And I felt it then: this strange, inexplicable sense that she might be the only person in the world I could really care about.
Because I want her. Now. Here. Everywhere. I want nothing between us. I want her clothes off and the lights on and I want to study her. I want to unzip her out of this dress and take my time with every inch of her.
My face is in his hands and my lips are at his lips and he’s kissing me and I’m oxygen and he’s dying to breathe.
Torture is not torture when there’s any hope of relief.
A handful of letters doesn’t always make a word, love.
I’d really rather die than eat your food and listen to you call me love.
One word, two lips, three four five fingers form a fist. One corner, two parents, three four five reasons to hide. One child, two eyes, three four seventeen years of fear. A broken broomstick, a pair of wile faces, angry whispers, locks on my door.
Do you never get exhausted being so wholly unbearable? You have as much charisma as the rotting innards of unidentified roadkill.
That this girl would know exactly how to shatter me.
My words wear no parachutes as they fall out of my mouth.
I have a heart, says science, but I am a monster, says society.
I’m wondering how many more mistakes I’ll have to make before things finally fall into place. If they ever will.
Sometimes I wish I never had to sleep. Sometimes I think that if I stay very, very still, if I never move at all, things will change. I think if I freeze myself I can freeze the pain. Sometimes I won’t move for hours. I will not move an inch. If time stands still nothing can go wrong.
Sometimes I wish I could step outside of myself for a while. I want to leave this worn body behind, but my chains are too many, my weights too heavy.
I touch the tip of my finger to his lips. “There are secrets in here,” I say. “I want them out.” He tries to bite my finger. I steal it back.
I think if I freeze myself I can freeze the pain.
All I know next are his arms, the desperate edge to his voice when he says my name, and I’m unraveling in his embrace, I’m frayed and falling apart and I’m making no effort to control the tremors in my bones and he’s so hot his skin is so hot and I don’t even know where I am anymore.