If any term containing the letters l-o-v-e-r has an expiration date, then I do not want anything to do with it.
I wish you knew what it was felt like to not just screw around, but to love. To be consumed by a wildfire and to be addicted to the heat and to be in love with that terrifying yet exhilarating feeling.
I only smiled at him on the metro earlier today because I was melancholy, yet now there is a collarbone on my lips and smeared scarlet lipstick on them.
Sometimes a really pretty song will play on the radio while I’m driving, and I’ll get goose bumps that actually hurt and a thumping heart and blurry eyes. There are no seconds or minutes or hours to infinity. Just there, I am just there, right there.