Knowing me is easy. You can still twist your hair and feel silly. Look up the word tacky and have a salad. But when we're together you pull bread apart with your fingers into bites sometimes so small I gotta remind you, Peach, it is okay to be hungry.

We both spend our money on things that break too easily like… people.

I don't care to be good, Sheriff. I care to be whole.

There was a typewriter buried alive in that horse, the one I road to get out of the flood.

There is a point when tears don't work to wash things away anymore. Grabbing for breath has now broken my fingers.

You are the home I point to that lives in my chest.

Make love to me like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.