No one needed to say it, but the room overflowed with that sort of blessing. The combination of loss and abundance. The abundance that has no guilt. The loss that has no fix. The simple tiredness that is not weary. The hope not built on blindness.
Listen. Look. Desire is a house. Desire needs closed space. Desire runs out of doors or windows, or slats or pinpricks, it can’t fit under the sky, too large. Close the doors. Close the windows. As soon as you laugh from nerves or make a joke or sa...
I wanted to bathe in plum juice, rediscover my body and adorn it in kiwi circles.
[...]when he closed his eyes, the torrent of longing waiting inside was so thick he thought he might drown in it.
It is these empty spaces you have to watch out for, as they flood up with feeling before you even realize what's happened.
We end up kissing her for an hour, and her lips are so soft they are almost like a joke.
Ponytail girl leaned over and she and the tall boy kissed and it was carcinogen gums and magical.
He said, I always thought the woman I’d marry would hit me easy, in a bolt of lightning, and there is not lightning there is not even thunder there is not even rain.
She could feel it brimming on her lips, that superstar smile, the bow shape, the teeth long and solid tombstones.
