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Lovers are patient and know that the moon needs time to become full.
She saw something in me that I didn’t see. She saw a worthwhile person where I saw a lost and hostile misfit. And because she had faith in me, I began to have faith in myself. And when she died, the first thing I thought was that I couldn’t do this without her, that I needed her too badly – her strength and her compassion. But then I realized that the gift that she gave me, and gave a lot of us here, was the knowledge that we are better and stronger than we think.
It’s still you.
It’s still you.
I think I might always be in some kind of love with you.

I watched you lose interest in someone you said you’d love till the end of time. From that moment on I realized I’d never fully trust the words of a lover’s mouth again.
Life is for deep kisses, strange adventures, midnight swims and rambling conversations.

Lines from Anne Sexton’s poem, The Black Art – the epigraph for Helen Vitoria’s book, Corn Exchange (currently reading.)





