"Writing is safer, somehow. Because my pen cannot stutter like my lips do, and words get stuck in throats, not fingertips, can't stumble on paper trails of blue lines. Because writing is definite and clear, and no one can tell if I am crying or laughing through written words alone."
"When you dip her in the middle of the dance floor, it's the color of her dress. When she whispers in your ear, it's the color of her lips. When you make love, it is the trace you want her to leave all over your body. When she places her palm over your heart, it is the color that comes to the surface as her fingertips trail like a sentence that can never be finished. When you see her in your bedroom with another, it is the color of your breath. When you smash the vase in the hall, it is the color of that threatens to abandon the shattered pieces. When you scream at the top of your lungs, it's the color that pierces the atmosphere. When she hears you, it's the color of her pulse. When you look in her eyes for the last time, it is the fading color of your heart falling to your knees. It is not the color you see when she leaves."

-T xo

I want to cuddle. :3
-Jo.