We are all trying to get over the person who broke our hearts. We are all far from perfect.

I’m glad we can be friends.”There’s that word again. It’s like a safe word.

He tangles his hand in my hair, and the other cups my jaw. Although I have this all planned, his lips feel shockingly sweet, swollen and soft, and more like home every time

The truth is, I always want to kiss you.

I didn’t know who I was or who I wanted to be until you stumbled into my life. I refuse to let you go.

The way he looks at me makes me ache, but it isn’t fair. He hurt me first. He caused this ache from the start. This inside out, churning pain that feels mental and physical now.I fiddle with my hands, peering up at him again, and all I can think is, God, I wish he’d stop staring at me like that.

Please don't trouble yourself with my scars. At least not right now, OK?

I'm afraid if I say what I am thinking, it will be too much too soon.

Our scars make us who we are. Some scars are just deeper than others.