That’s a misconception, Lennie. The sky is everywhere, it begins at your feet.
People die, I think, but your relationship with them doesn’t. It continues and is ever-changing.
My sister will die over and over again for the rest of my life. Grief is forever. It doesn’t go away; it becomes a part of you, step for step, breath for breath. I will never stop grieving Bailey because I will never stop loving her. That’s just how it is. Grief and love are conjoined, you don’t get one without the other. All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.
He’s the one. And some thoughts once thought are very hard to unthink.
This is what I want: I want to grab my brother’s hand and run back through time, losing years like coats falling from our shoulders.
People die, I think, but your relationship with them doesn’t. It continues and is ever-changing.
They do make love stories for girls with black hearts after all. They go like this.
There once was a girl who found herself dead.She peered over the ledge of heavenand saw that back on earthher sister missed her too much,was way too sad,so she crossed some pathsthat would not have crossed,took some moments in her handshook them upand spilled them like diceover the living world.It worked.The boy with the guitar collidedwith her sister.There you go, Len, she whispered. The rest is up to you.
Remember how it was when we kissed? Armfuls and armfuls of light thrown right at us. A rope dropping down from the sky. How can the word love and the word life even fit in the mouth?