Her eyes flutter up to meet mine. “Are you hungry?”she asks. Am I ever.
Who says I breathe music? Who says I even breathe?
The line between true self and feigned self is blurred on all sides. Which I think is a rather handy metaphor for falling in love.
Fake it till you make it actually worked.
I want to make her cry and then lick up the tears.
Sometimes you can't know until you know.