Yet sometimes being a friend meant letting people do things that hurt, like putting distance between you, just because it made them happy.

My skill didn't lie in planning battles, only in fighting them.

Stalkers lips curled into a sneer. "You won't make a move without him, huh? That's embarrassing." "No," I said softly. "It just hurts because you wish it was you.

She carries chaos like an overcoat.

Survival feels like cowardice.

His lashes, fluttered like butterfly wings. "I could've made you happy, dove." "You did," I whispered

I have had passionate kisses and fierce ones, kisses so sweet they tasted like pure honey and kisses that cut like knives, but until this moment, I’ve never had one that said both hello and good-bye.