You Look Older.” “yes, Well. The Passage

Peace Is Restrained; This Is Free.

His Fingers Leave Streaks Of Cold On My Skin, Invisible To The Eye, And I Think About Wrapping His Shirt Around My Fist And Pulling Him In To Kiss Me; I Think About Pressing Myself Against Him, But I Can't, Because All Our Secrets Would Keep A Space Between Us.

In The Days That Follow, It's Movement, Not Stillness, That Helps To Keep The Grief At Bay.

"what Did You Do?” This Time The Question Tears From My Throat Like A Growl. I Throw Myself Toward Him. “what Did You Do?” I Scream. “you Die, I Die Too. I Asked You Not To Do This. You Made Your Decision. These Are The Repercussions."

I Want People To Come Away From My Book With Questions. Questions About Virtue And Goodness. Not Answers.