Maybe if I try hard enough, we'll fall into each other and become one single person and we can share our pain instead of carrying it by ourselves.

The cemetery is my sense of comfort, my sanctuary in a world of darkness, the one piece of light that i have in my life.

The vertical lines that run down his forearms are the most disturbing, thick and jagged as if someone took a razor to his skin. I wish I could run my fingers along them and remove the pain and memories that are attached to them.

In the midst of a foggy field, the answers are hidden But the impossible journey deems them forbidden. The Reaper of Death, the Angel of Life. They walk together in day and night.

You really need stitches," she tells me."Or you're going to have a scar." I try not to laugh. Stitches aren't going to help. They fix skin, cuts, wounds, heal stuff on the outside. Everything broken with me is on the inside. "I can handle scars, especially one's on the outside.

The first time I'd ever felt happy-and I mean ever-was when I'd been lying in my bed, staring out my window, watching the stars shine harmoniosly with one another.

When his lips return to mine, it's not just about lust or desire - it's about making us whole.