Acapulco in the sunset seems like a balm; it enters the blood like a drug after one inhalation of the scent of flowers, one glimpse of the bay iridescent like silk, the sunset like the inside of a shell, so much like the flesh of Venus.

No one should be forced to carry the unfulfilled self of another.

I adore the struggle you carry in yourself. I adore your terrifying sincerity.

The enemy of a love is never outside, it's not a man or woman, it's what we lack in ourselves.

Coming near him like a ballet dancer she took a leap towards him, and he, frightened by her vehemence, and fearing that she would crash against him, instinctively became absolutely rigid, and she felt herself embracing a statue.

Your eyes make me shy

Write. Write until it stops hurting.