I'd sleep outside naked in the blizzard,for you.

I fell for a boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

She is angle. I am curve. Together, we are geometric sculpture, and we make perfect sense.

I told her about the man, not my daddy, she said, He was only making you into a real girl. I didn’t understand. But I made myself believe her. I was a real girl now. But what was I before?

I whisper and you close your eyes. I speak and you turn away. If I scream, will you finally hear me beg you to hold me close to you, promise you'll never let go?

Not Exactly True That skin hate is dead. There will never be color blindness in a culture of fear. But when you live afraid of your neighbor, the monster you should most walk in terror of thrives. It starts as a little thing, small enough to burrow into your pores, take up excruciating residence in the dark recesses of your brain. Its name is paranoia, and it spreads like an oil spill, there in the shadows, chokes your humanity. Threatens your soul.

The problem with falling in love is falling back out of it again, usually because you've fallen in love with a lie. That happens as often as not.