The whole world is like Whitewall's razors I burst out. It cuts us, and we bleed but there's no purpose to it.

But it was like a dance across a field strewn with razors, and I bled with every step I took.

While sight may deceive you, touch rarely does.

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.

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.

We're broken in complementary ways, thus rendering our damage comprehensible to each other.

But I miss the woman I was, even as I learn to accept the new creature I’ve become.