Moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one.

I don't know where I end and the world begins. My best guess? Skin. It's the only actual boundary between the body and the world, between a body and any other body.

He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.

I’m not suggesting the world is good, that life is easy, or that any of us are entitled to better. But please, isn’t this the kind of thing you talk about in somber tones, in the afternoon, with some degree of hope and maybe even a handful of strategies?

Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly flames everywhere.

I swear, I end up feeling empty, like you've taken something out of me and I have to search my body for scars.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven...