I peek up at his features, at the crooked grin i want to savor, at the color in his eyes i’d use to paint a million pictures.

Hate looks like everybody else until it smiles

I touch the tip of my finger to his lips. “There are secrets in here,” I say. “I want them out.”He tries to bite my finger.I steal it back.

Laughter comes from living.” I shrug, try to sound indifferent. “I’ve never really been alive before.

I have to get out of this room as soon as possible, or my own thoughts will wage war against me.

The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do.

My father couldn’t warm my frozen hands.