It wasn't my first kiss, maybe it wasn't my best kiss, but it was pretty fine, and the fact that he had asked will forever make that kiss stand out in my mind, touch my heart, make me remember a kiss so tender it made me cry.

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

Would I drown saving him?

Your hurt swallows ine, like space swallows time, and the two intertwine. We tangle together.

Alone everything changes. Some might call it distorted reality but it's exactly the place I need to be.

Believe it or not, I sold my first novel, Crank, with only seventy-five pages complete. It was in verse then, and it was hard-hitting then.

Sorry. But I don't need some money-grubbing preacher defining my relationship with God.