In another time, in another place, I wonder who they might have been.

I wanted so badly to tell him, but something about that entire night seemed so beautiful, so bizarre, that I didn't trust it with my secrets.

On tiptoes the redhead wouldn't even reach my shoulders; she is clearly too young to be a bride. And the willowy girl is too forlorn. And I am too unwilling. Yet here we are.

Every star has been set in the sky. We mistakenly think they were put there for us.

The months fall to shards at my feet.

I had this feeling like the solution to everything would be down there if only I could dig through all those clouds.

Lovers are weapons, but love is a wound.