Needle and thread flesh and bone Spit and sinew, heartbreak is home. Your suture lines, they sparkle like diamonds Bright stars to light my confinement "Stitch.

But I'd do it again. I know that now. I'd make that promise a thousand times over and lose her a thousand times over to have heard her play last night or to see her in the morning sunlight. Or even without that. Just to know that she's somewhere out there. Alive.

I want to ask him where that kitchen is. Where he's from. But he seems guarded. Or maybe it's me. Maybe making friends is a specific skill, and I missed the lesson.

I have a feeling that once you live through something like this, you become a little bit invincible.

You have to fall in love to be in love, but falling in love isn't the same as being in love

She said if she couldn't play, she had nothing left. What about me?

Even if you find him. Even if he didn’t leave you on purpose, he can’t possibly live up to the person you’ve built him into.