He is gentle. There are no sharp words grazing over veins, no daggers from the roof of his mouth to beat me down. There are only pieces...

A lone star over a train yard at midnight, guiding home a runaway heart. Your cigarettes still linger leftover in the ashtray; blue eyes...

Adoration of you renders me terrified. I don’t know how you see so deeply, so sharply, these fragments, this patchwork. Me and my smart...