Even good hearts know how to turn bad touch and genocide into clichés just to make room for more comfort.
You're not the only piece of patchwork birds can pull worms from.
There is a point when tears don't work to wash things away anymore. Grabbing for breath has now broken my fingers.
Love makes no mistakes.
You're a free-standing landing pad held together by choir claps.
Everybody knows that smiling is for little girls, the gays and certain kinds of fish who are smiling by accident.