I Am Starting A Collection

It's Only His Thumb Brushing Slowly Across The Lower Edge Of My Lip, But It's As If Time Slows And The Sweep Of That Thumb Below My Mouth Takes Forever. It Is No Spell That I Know Of, But It Holds Such Magic, I Can Scarcely Breath. He Pulls His Hand Away Fast, Aware Of What He's Done. But His Touch Lingers.

I'm Sorry, Gemma. But We Can't Live In The Light All Of The Time. You Have To Take Whatever Light You Can Hold Into The Dark With You.

What Do You Feel? I’ve Never Been Asked This Question Once. None Of Us Has. We Aren’t Supposed To Feel. We’re British.

In Every End, There Is Also A Beginning.

I Want To Ask Him If It’s Possible That A Girl Can Be Born Unlovable, Or Does She Just Become That Way?