To spend a life in dreams, that sounded too lovely.
It’s humbling, to become the very thing you once mocked.
She released her grievances like handfuls of birdseed: They are there, and they are gone.
I ached once, hard, like a period typed at the end of a sentence.
I've always been partial to the image of liquor as lubrication, a layer of protection from all the sharp thoughts in your head.
He was one of those guys who'd pronounce I'm a hugger as he came at you, neglecting to ask if the feeling was mutual.