My heart should be breaking, too, but there comes a point when you’re so inured to loss that you no longer feel the lash.

Show, not tell, right? Action, not words. You don’t want to hear how sorry I am or how things will be different this time. You want to see it with your own eyes. And until I can show you that, you won’t tell me what I want to hear.

For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.

With a polite smile, I decided she was insane.

I never knew I had the power to hurt him, only that he possessed the power to hurt me.

A divided heart offers a strange sensation.

I'll always want him. Until every sun goes dark in every sky, until I am nothing more than long-forgotten cosmic dust, I will want him. And even then I suspect my particles will long for his.