At night, lying on your back and staring at the falling snow, it's easy to imagine oneself soaring through the stars.

You have so many layers, that you can peel away a few, and everyone's so shocked or impressed that you're baring your soul, while to you it's nothing, because you know you've twenty more layers to go.

At night, lying on your back and staring at the falling snow, it's easy to imagine oneself soaring through the stars.

Her lips tarried at mine. Baiting each other with the warmth of our breath, barely grazing, detouring, then connecting.

How satisfying it is to leave a mark on a blank surface. To make a map of my movement - no matter how temporary.

For what matters if I gain the whole world, but lose my soul?

Shame is always easier to handle if you have someone to share it with.