Come back to me.Where have you gone?And why so long?I miss the star below your lip,the constellation on your chest.I miss your ways,how you net butter-flying words and release themfor others to enjoy.I miss your tenderness,the sweetness of your breathand the song of your voice.I miss howyou worship me.Come back to me once more.Why did you go?And whatever for?The heavens plotted against us.The clouds came andpissed on our lives.The smell of charged particlesstill lingers in the air.What will become of you and I?Come back to us.

I guess that’s how well you know me. You think I like hearing this news.”“I’m sorry. This is selfish. I just need to tell someone … outside my life. Get it out of myhead, to keep from going nuts, but somewhere safe.”She sees me as safe? This brings tears to my eyes.“I trust you, Clem. Are you pissed?

Some people take offense like it's a limited time offer.

I was so mad, I reached into the drawer for her fake sushi eraser and put it in my pocket. Serves her right for being such a big, fat, Eggo-scarfing liar.

It’s a beautiful smile. One that brightens the rat-infested attic room. No one has ever smiled like that at me. No one. Everything inside me twists with the need to keep her close.I should be pissed. Who knows if I’ll ever see the money from Eric. Who knows if Noah and I will lose the lease, sending me back into the system. Right now, I don’t f*cking care. I’m touching an angel.

This girl of my dreams, this girl who is more like me than anyone I've ever met, wants to kiss me.I take over control as soon as she tilts her head. Our lips touch for the briefest moment before I lace my fingers in her hair and keep kissing her soft and gentle. I cup her cheek in my palm, feeling her baby-soft skin against my rough fingers. My body urges me to take advantage of the situation, but my brain (the one inside my head) keeps me in check.A satisfied sigh escapes Brittany's mouth, as if she's content to stay in my arms forever.I brush the tip of my tongue against her lips, enticing her to open her mouth. She tentatively meets my tongue with her own. Our mouths and tongues mingle in a slow, erotic dance until the sound of the front door opening makes her jerk

When we are in a wrong environment, we feel so paranoid, yet unwilling to move out. There's no need for pussyfooting, we got to release our poisonous fluid and scream aloud, storming  out of the show like a radical.

Well," a female voice said. "What have we here?""Here," Bethany said, responding to the woman's rhetorical question, "we have a teenager. And she's pissed.