Later that night she picked the polish offwith her front teeth until the bed you sharedfor seven years seemed speckled with glitterand blood.

[…] but she cannot make him eat, like you.

At the end of the day, it isn’t where I came from. Maybe home is somewhere I’m going and never have been before.

The ego hurts you like this: you become obsessed with the one person who does not love you. blind to the rest who do.

all those nights with the phone warming the side of my face like the sun.