“To kiss her there was to intrude into something private and skeletal, like a turtle’s shoulder.”

Love is a fire/It burns everyone/It disfigures everyone/It is the world’s excuse for being ugly.

You go to Heaven once you’ve been to Hell.

When you’re not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you’ve sinned.

Friend, when you speak this carefully I know it is because you don’t know what to say.

Reality is one of the possibilities I cannot afford to ignore.

I’m afraid to live any place but in expectation. I’m no life-risk.

It is easy to display a wound, the proud scars of combat. It is hard to show a pimple.

Remember when I moved in you And the holy dove was moving too, and every breath we drew was Hallelujah.

European children starved and watched their parents scheme and die. Here we grew up with toy whips. Early warning against our future leaders, the war babies.

Blessed are you who circled desire with a blade, and the garden with fiery swords, and heaven and earth with a word.

If you don’t become the ocean, you’ll be seasick every day.

Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as a secret to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.

Only one thing made him happy and now that it was gone everything made him happy.

We are not mad. We are human. We want to love, and someone must forgive us for the paths we take to love, for the paths are many and dark, and we are ardent and cruel in our journey.

My abandoned narcotics have abandoned me.

I am not the one who loved, it’s love that chooses me.

Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.

I don’t mind getting a black eye or broken arm for a girl as long as she’s there to kiss it after.

When we kiss my heart’s on fire, burning with a strange desire.

Kiss and make up-but too much makeup has ruined many a kiss.

Once I catch you and the kissing starts, a team of wild horses couldn’t tear us apart.

I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Love has to be flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss.

The sheets grow heavy as a lecher’s kiss.