"More and more I found myself at a loss for words and didn’t want to hear other people talking either. Their conversations seemed false and empty. I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone."
"I’d shed my skin to get a little closer to you. With our bones touching, we’d finally take “boning” literally. You are the reason for all of my love drunk poems. Ma point finale. The cough that gets stuck in my throat. I want to peel your mouth like an orange and taste your citric shock. I want to drape you in as many metaphors as my pen can carry. Because nothing compares to your heart in size like the Atlantic, especially when I’m standing at the edge of it. And your breath on my shoulder makes me shake as much as preparing to dip my foot into an active volcano. If you’d let me, I’d lose myself in the patches of hair you forgot to shave and find my way out of your forest by tasting my way to your lips. If you told me you liked flowers, I’d grow a field of them in my chest, then hand you bouquets of compliments each time we met. I’d give you enough daisies to pick the petals off that you’d always have ten “they love me”s for each of your “they love me not”s. I have categorized my body into pieces you have and have not touched. Pluck me, my kneecaps, fingernails, and eyebrows are waiting."