We spoke once about lovers who kept finding each other, no matter how many times the world came between them. And I think I had to break your heart, and you had to break mine. How else could we know the worth of what we were given?
Hands are no longer hands. They are caresses. Mouths are no longer mouths. They are kisses. My name is no longer a name, it is a call. And love is no longer love – love is you.
Take me someplace where I can feel something-I want to give away my heart. Tell me his name so I can know love when it speaks to me. Give me someone I can write about.
Then there is the boy you can never stop thinking about. Whenever you see his name, it trips you up. Even if it’s one that belongs to many others, even if he belongs to someone else.
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.
