“It was a question I had worn on my lips for days – like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn’t resist pulling – despite knowing it could all unravel around me. “Do you love me, I ask?” In your hesitation I found my answer.”

It is only the year that is ending. So why does it feel like the world is?

He and I When words run dry, he does not try, nor do I. We are on par. He just is, I just am, and we just are.

In many ways, a book is, in itself, a tiny universe. Each page is like a newly formed galaxy, fashioned from a single, pulsing thought. A book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.

Now I know being close to you was never about the proximity.

But how could I have stopped him from taking what was already his?

If you love me for what you see, only your eyes would be in love with me.

But if you don’t love my every flaw, then you mustn’t love me- not at all.

If they were meant to be in your life, nothing cover ever make them leave. If they weren’t, nothing in the world could make them stay.

There are things we sacrifice for love, that we willingly give. But no one who loves you will ever ask you to give up more than you are willing.

I build my walls from the mess they leave.

Where the strangers we meet, take us down one way streets, and forgetting is something we’re taught.

You are a writer bleeding words onto a page. And the ones who hate you will trample on that page. And the ones who love you will cut you, to keep you bleeding.

I think there is a sense of ownership in knowing, isn’t there? You let people in, and they claim parts of you-they fly their flag over uncharted territory and from then onward-you cease to belong wholly to yourself.

There is a savagery to what you feel. It eats you up inside. But you will get through it; you don’t need his mouth to placate you. You don’t need his hands to untangle the butterfly knot in your heart. Your love is a fire that will burn itself out. Let it ravage you.

You must emerge from adversity, scathed but victorious to tell your story and, in turn, light the way for others.

When in truth, it is the transparency that kills you. The pain of seeing through to something you can never quite touch.

Rest your lips close to mine, lets seal forever with a kiss.

Tempt me with your lips and tease me when it drips.

I don’t tend to go totally bare, but on non-filming days, I will only wear tinted moisturiser, mascara, blusher, and a ChapStick for my lips.

Bite your lips, little brother…Don’t cry. Keep your anger, your hate, for another day, for later. The day will come but not now…Wait. Clench your teeth and wait.

Do not have Jesus Christ on your lips, and the world in your heart.

I can feel your heartbeat when my mouth is wrapped around your lips.

Let me kiss you one last time now that I know I will feel you on my lips for the rest of my life.

Like deep water, she was silent. His lips tasted of salt. He was both addicting and bitter all at once.