One foot in front of the other, counting tiles on the floor so I don't have to focus the blur of painted smiles, fake faces.

Evil is not intrinsic. It's fashioned.

Grandma once told me it's easy to overthink love, to dissect it and question it until it is no more.

Love is more than blind. It’s brain-dead.

Forever made that kiss stand out in my mind, touch my heart, make me remember a kiss so tender.

Words have power. The power to soothe. The power to skewer someone through the heart. The power to render someone speechless.

I want to open myself, let him inside. But how do I give what has already been taken?