domingo, 22 de agosto de 2010
the lesson..

He continued to kiss my hair, my forehead, my wrists… but never my lips, and that was good. After all, how many ways can one heart be mangled and still be expected to keep beating? I’d lived through a lot that should have finished me in the last few days, but it didn’t make me feel strong. Instead, I felt horribly fragile, like one word could shatter me.
it's like ..

In that second, I wished that I was not the one exception to his mysterious talent;
I usually felt grateful that I was the only person whose thoughts he couldn’t hear just as clearly as if they were spoken aloud.
But now I wished he could hear me, too, so that he could hear the warning I was screaming in my head.
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