"I could not capture you
even if the words were written in my own
blood, because this skin can only hold so
much. Because I can no longer look at you
without burning. You are too painful for poetry
and too big for language. You are far too many
things I don’t know how to write about."
"I decided on you, don’t you get that? I decided on you. I don’t want to go fucking other people and then walk around feeling thrilled and then sad, or empty, or whatever. I like the smell of your hair, and I like the sound of your voice, and I fucking decided on you."