Maybe he was real. Maybe I'd made him up. Either way, he didn't think I needed him anymore. Maybe he was right.

Tinys do not deserve safety. If they are to prove themselves, they must suffer and die or suffer and survive.

You were just a boy on a bed in a room, like a kaleidoscope is a tube full of bits of broken glass. But the way I saw you was pieces refracting the light, shifting into an infinite universe of flowers and rainbows and insects and planets, magical dividing cells, pictures no one else knew.

You must reach inside yourselves where I live like a story, not old, not young laughing at my own sorrow, weeping pearls at weddings, wielding a torch to melt sand into something clear and bright.

After his kisses and hugs it feels like without them my body will fall apart into pieces.

You are in my blood. I cant help it. We can't be anywhere except together

I'll be inside the one who holds you. And then I won't be.