What I Really Want, And What I

Even When I Detach, I Care. You Can Be Separate From A Thing And Still Care About It. If I Wanted To Detach Completely, I Would Move My Body Away. I Would Stop The Conversation Midsentence. I Would Leave The Bed. Instead, I Hover Over It For A Second. I Glance Off In Another Direction. But I Always Glance Back At You.

I Don’t Want To Throw Everything Away For Something Uncertain.

It Was A Laugh That Came From The Tip Of His Toes, Gaining Force And Soul As It Traveled Through His Body And Out Into The World In Mirthful Bursts. There Wasn't Anything Fake About It; It Was An Amusement Park Of A Laugh, And When It Appeared, You Wanted To Jump On Board.

I Don’t Like It When You Use My Shampoo, Because Then Your Hair Smells Like Me, Not You.

When Things Break, It's Not The Actual Breaking That Prevents Them From Getting Back Together Again. It's Because A Little Piece Gets Lost -- The Two Remaining Ends Couldn't Fit Together Even If They Wanted To. The Whole Shape Has Changed.