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“What would you have asked of me if I took the sea glass?” “To save me all your firsts,” he whispers somewhere between my ear and mouth as his body brushes away from mine.
It was love at first sight Hate at second Lust at third But four is my lucky number So mine your ass shall be
You came back to me like a tempest Beautiful and dazzling and destructive Ripping everything in your wake Including, but not limited to, my heart
There is nothing more poetically inspiring Than loving the right person At the wrong place At the wrong time
I love you, Daria Followhill, and I think you love me, too. In fact, I think we fell at the same time. You, like rain, in drizzles, over the weeks. Me, like the fucking sky above my head, all at once, crashing without the faintest chance of stopping.
“You were never a drizzle, Penn Scully. When I fell for you, you came beating down, and I felt you everywhere. You were hail.”
Why didn’t you tell me we were in love? Why did you wait for me to find out When you broke my heart?
