I Would Rather Be Dead

That’s One Way Of Looking At It. I Prefer To Look At It Another Way—which Is That If They Are Persistent Enough, Even Tiny Drops Of Water, Over Time, Can Change The Rock Forever. And It Will Never Change Back.

She Can't Possibly Be Me, Though She Moves When I Move

He Pulls Me Over The Railing And Against His Chest, Gathering Me Into His Arms, Easing An Arm Under My Knees. I Press My Face Into His Shoulder, And There Is A Sudden, Hollow Silence.

I Can't Tell Him I Need Him. I Can't Need Him, Period -- Or Really, We Can't Need Each Other, Because Who Knows How Long Either Of Us Will Last In This War?

The Opinions Of Others Cannot Damage You.