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“Every word you write makes you a better writer, and there are a lot of bad words that you need to get through before you can get to the good ones.”—Iain Thomas
“He loves her as much as he did the night he first met her at the park. She has crystal blue eyes and he remembers being told that everyone with blue eyes was once infected by a plague and that disturbance in their genetics gave them blue eyes and he wonders if everyone with blue eyes has a common sense of loss, somewhere in the back of their soul, not ever quite knowing what it is but knowing that they once suffered and now would always be marked for it. Jon places his hand softly on her back, trying to touch just the soft, almost invisible hair, not her skin. She reminds him of every good day he’s ever had. Every summer spent in fields of grass. Every sunrise. Every sunset. She tastes like dew and smells like light. And when she speaks, it’s like someone slowly plucking the strings of a guitar, a sadly beautiful song starting to play, all his own. And he loves her. He loves her like he can never grab enough of her between his fingers. And no matter how close he gets, even when they make love, it never feels close enough, like her flesh and her bones keep something sacred in them, hidden from him.”—Intentional Dissonance
I’ll write you words on the stars
so you can look up at them
and know that I’m thinking about you too.
I’ll write poems on the sun
so they can lighten up your day
the same way your smile does
at any given moment.
I’ll write love letters on the moon
so they can sing you to sleep
for god knows how much you need that.
I’ll leave words for you across the universe
so you can hear me if I am ever silent.
For the girl who is the universe to me,
I will show you that it loves you back.