No guest rooms.” I shake my head resolutely. “I want to be in a room room. A lived-in room.

They say that the cure for love will make me happy and safe forever. And I’ve always believed them. Until now. Now everything has changed. Now, I’d rather be infected with love for the tiniest sliver of a second than live a hundred years smothered by a lie

Love. I love you. I’ll always love you, my love. You are the love of my life.

We should be protected from the people who will leave us in the end, from all the people who will disappear or forget us.

Poetry isn't like any writing I've ever heard before. I don't understand all of it, just bits of images, sentences that appear half-finished, all fluttering together like brightly colored ribbons in the wind.

The thing is, you don't get to know. It's not like you wake up with a bad feeling in your stomach. You don't see shadows where there shouldn't be any. You don't remember to tell your parents you love them or--in my case--remember to say good-bye to them at all.

Sometimes I feel like she deserves a best friend who is just a little more special.