I would always wait to take you home.

To love--to fall--is not a question. To touch--to kiss--to speak--those are questions.

How sad it must be for you to be nothing more than a hollow statue, to have your tomb preserved and your story forgotten.

I'll see you later, he says, and as he does, he runs his finger briefly over my wrist. It passes over me like air, and makes me shiver like a kiss.

I was sixteen and equipped with the appropriate genitalia, so I cleared that hurdle nicely.

Beauty comes naturally, but it's hard to be stunning by accident.

I think of friendship in terms of love.