As she lays down on her bedroom floor, the chemicals that make her laugh don’t seem to be working anymore

he wasn’t loud in any sense of the word,

I can’t exist within my own head,

We’re all just the same, what a shame.

Give your heart and soul to charity. The rest of you, the best of you, honey, belongs to me.

He says “us” like it means amen. He speaks like a pastor and trips over his words, his tongue struggling to meet his brain. He knows when my words are about him and he lets it all go to his head, and I don’t care because I love to watch him love himself.

it’s glowing, embers barely showing.

I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do.

She wears it like a dress; a post-traumatic mess.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Between the spires and the rolling roofs of the white city, that orange English light casts only one singular shadow. For you are not beside, but within me.

i think that we loved each other so much that we forgot to love ourselves,

the blood in our veins is nothing but chemicals,

he has stars in his eyes