I reached for my daggers and realized, like a total tool, I’d thrown them somewhere over yonder in a fit of an “I am so awesome” and “who needs daggers when I have akasha fingers of power?” ego trip.
How I’d managed to sit still for the majority of the conversation and be controlled, without ripping my knickers off, throwing them over my head and swinging my bra around my fingers in a come and get me gesture, I had no idea.
Ha! Good luck, lady!" Gustav laughed and tapped his thick index finger against his temple. "No one knows what goes on inside this head. Not even me.
My fingers are blistered and they smell like lighter fluid— like burnt tin foil and rusted silverware. Quick question: Is it still considered heroin chic if I’m actually using heroin? No? Whatever.
Sebastian tapped his index finger on the polished wood thoughtfully. Yes, it was a universal truth: some things once broken were broken forever—like trust. It might be patched up and smoothed over, but it would always be the thing that had once bee...
Her fingers dug into the doorframe she leaned on, hoping and praying that he would just step out of the shadows and kiss her the way he had done so often in her dreams.
God, how we get our fingers in each other's clay. That's friendship, each playing the potter to see what shapes we can make of each other.
I have been incapable of moving, even a finger or an eye, for at least a year now. I feel relatively certain about this timeframe because I have been watching the crepe myrtle outside the window of the room I am in...
Lilli . . . Lilli . . . Lilli.” Sweet Jesus, she was going to kill him. She’d just gotten to sleep. Now he was running a finger up and down her spine, saying her name in an extremely life-threatening singsong voice.
He dropped the tavern apron in a heap on the floor and pulled the freshly laundered one up and over his head, tied it with slightly tremoring fingers. The vast whiteness felt like absolution.
Love is a bird’s nest of emotion that I used as a basket to store picnic items like apples, cheese, wine, and finger foods like thumbs and pinkies.
Hmm…” Jason snapped his fingers. “I can call a friend for a ride.” Percy raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Me too. Let's see whose friend gets here first.
Turning my head so I can look into his eyes, I strum my fingers across his cheek. “You’re right. I think we’ve both had enough darkness. I want to live in light.
It was true that Odette played vilely, but often the most memorable impression of a piece of music is one that has arisen out of a jumble of wrong notes struck by unskilful fingers upon a tuneless piano.
I don't know, Benes. I'm not sure I've ever really understood women for that kind of commitment.' He flipped his beer mat up int the air with his index finger and caught it in his hand.
I made a circular motion with my finger around my temple to indicate I thought this guy was crazy, forgetting that there was no one in the room to see this circular motion except him. He saw it and frowned.
People are laughing at me today for having holes in my pockets, and ink blood on my fingers- a thirty-something old writer, who strangles words from dictionaries, and feeds on the decay of poetry.
Do you ride?" She smiled, her fingers lightly sliding around his ear. "Not since I hit that barn" Zach’s hands paused on her flesh. "You hit a barn?" "I had to avoid the cow
Ah, a romantic.” Danny leaned back, threading his fingers behind his head. “I used to be one, until my wife died. And then I was just pathetic.
I recognized Meg’s swirly handwriting and crooked my index finger into the side of the envelope to rip it open. There was no letter. Just a picture. A picture of Meg holding a picture of me. The word HOME echoed through my body like a rifle shot.
The longer I lived, the longer it would be until I saw him alive again, until I could taste his new lips and run my fingers through his new hair. We could be young and beautiful again . . .
