When I say, "Be my lover", I don't mean, "Let's have an affair." I don't mean "Sleep with me." I don't mean, "Be my secret." I want us to go back down to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.

I want to kiss her without counting the seconds. I want to hold her so long that I get to know her skin. I want, I want, I want.

Her mind is an unquiet one, words and thoughts and impulses constantly crashing into each other.

I want to take back at least half of the “I love you”s, because I didn’t mean them as much as the other ones.

I can't pretend to know what love is. It just is.

I was starting to think I was making up memories, just to have answers. Our brain does that sometimes. Or at least mine does.

I don’t like it when you use my shampoo, because then your hair smells like me, not you.