I'd rather die my way than live yours.

And then, just at that moment, when I'm no longer sure if I'm dreaming or awake or walking some valley in between where everything you wish for comes true, I feel the flutter of his lips on mine.

Droplets, droplets: we are all identical drips and drops of people, hovering, waiting to be tipped, waiting for someone to show us the way, to pour us down a path.

You should only fall in love with people who will fall in love with you back.

For a moment, my heart aches for him. I should never have asked him to join me here; I should never have asked him to cross.

Direction, like time, is a general thing, the deprived of boundaries and borders. It is an endless process interception and reinterception, doubling back and adjusting.

Everywhere he touches is fire. My whole body is burning up, the two of us becoming twin points of the same bright white flame.