I need to capture my sprite with trembling hands. Except I could crush her. Wonder how many small things of beauty - flowers, seashells, dragonflies - have met such a demise. Wonder how much fragile love has collapsed beneath the weight of confession.

My happiest memories have no place in the past; they are those I have yet to create.

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.

Being In Love Means hard questions. Will I? Won't I? Should I? Could I? Yes? No? You? Me? There is no me without you. Is there a you without me? And if were truly one. how will I breathe when circomstance pries us apart? You are my oxygen. my substance, the blood inside my veins. When we touch, you are my skin. hold all my joy inside of you. When you go, I wither.

The universe is a big place. If I was lost up there, how would you ever find me

Real love shouldn't be disposable.

Girls are impossible to satisfy." "Not every girl." Not me. I'd be happy if he'd just like me a little.