A curve of silver hung amid the brighter specks; it looked to me like a curved dagger, pretty but deadly, as if it might slice the sky in two.
But I miss the woman I was, even as I learn to accept the new creature I’ve become.
After people have gone, you forget their faults, and you recall the ideal more than the person.
He was the heat of a fire and the sweetness of the moon I'd only just met.
For peace to take hold, one person must first stop fighting.
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.