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I’ve never been looked at the way he does—as if he’s trying to memorize me. As if he’s searching for something he lost.
“Sometimes, all you can do is change the scenery.”
And sometimes, you have no other choice than run and hope your past doesn’t decide to follow.
My mind is a vivid and colorful space.
We’ve not known each other long, but we’re on the same wavelength, connecting like two raindrops falling into the same puddle.
feeling ten times lighter and ten times heavier all at once.
“I’ve seen you with and without makeup. I’ve seen you with mascara smeared under your eyes when you were too lazy to wash your face before falling asleep. I’ve seen you wearing
a sexy dress, and I’ve seen you in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt stained with tomato juice. You’re beautiful, little one. Always. But now, you’re tired.”
That man drives me crazy. Wild. Raging with need whenever we touch.
Sometimes, you have to make it happen. Seize the opportunity or forever regret not trying. After all, when we’re nearing the end of our time in this world, when we’re old, lonely, and in pain, no longer ticking positions off our bucket list, we regret the things we didn’t do, not the ones we did.
“I’m not ready.” Not ready to lose you.
Why does it feel like I’m wrestling the Hulk, trying to fight what I want? And why am I fighting it? Because I’m scared, that’s why.
God, she’s so bizarre sometimes, and I absolutely fucking love that about her.
All my muscles relax as fast as when I’m freefalling while skydiving.
“I flipped the safety on a loaded gun.” I bite my lip, inching back. “Pull the trigger, Theo.”
“We were never meant to be friends. You wanted to fuck me on day one, but you changed your mind halfway through the evening, remember?” “Because you’re too good to fuck and forget.”
we’re not over. We’ve barely begun.
That woman is wild. Passionate. Determined. She takes no prisoners and speaks her mind.
She tastes like heaven, sunshine, spring rain, and everything that makes me feel good.
He’s not the one to voice his emotions and feelings aloud, but he took the time to write the poem, however awful it may be. It’s his way of telling me that he cares, that I’m important, and mean more to him than any other woman.
The fuse burns out, and the dynamite goes kaboom. No countdown, no warning, just an instant blast.
Fear squeezes my throat, moist and sticky.
But I’ve never experienced fear as paralyzing as I do right now, and I wonder if it’s because I’m truly happy for the first time in my life. The happiness could disappear if whoever broke in here got his hands on me. God knows what they wanted to do.
The weight of my secrets crushes me inside out.
You had a chance, and you blew it. Time to play.
