Forgetting: that, too, was the heart's slow way of healing, but it could only be done alone. Love and loss turns us into the most solitary of creatures, their mysteries can never entirely be shared.
Love is a fragile, useless thing. It decomposes easily in the tropic heat.
I love the excesses of beauty,
there is never enough sunlight
in the world I will live in,
never enough room for love.
He was a poet -oh all men are when they're in love.
I deny the fact that when I kill time, time is actually killing me
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