She had a mind like a box of fireworks and hands that played recklessly with matches.
Catalog
Michael Faudet
I spend most nights at home falling in love with the idea of you.
The saddest truth is realising you have fallen madly in love with what can never be.
I am hopelessly in love with a memory. An echo from another time, another place.
Put your hands on my knees, she said, and think of me as a book you’ve been dying to read.
The saddest truth is realising you have fallen madly in love with what can never be.
I have never felt the touch of falling snow, she said, but like love, I know it exists.
You were my beautiful mistake and I don’t regret anything. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
There is no perfect ending to a relationship. No magic formula. Just a silent scream as they rip your f*cking heart out.
Every time you open your eyes I fall deeper in love with the story they tell.
I certainly know right from wrong, she said, but the trouble is, whenever I feel your hands unclipping my bra— wrong suddenly feels wonderfully right.
I certainly know right from wrong, she said, but the trouble is, whenever I feel your hands unclipping my bra— wrong suddenly feels wonderfully right.
I certainly know right from wrong, she said, but the trouble is, whenever I feel your hands unclipping my bra— wrong suddenly feels wonderfully right.
Her kisses were the wings of butterflies, beating softly upon lips of crushed petals.
My heart had become a broken compass. Every time I tried to leave you, I always found myself running back into your arms.
You can never laugh too much or have too many orgasms.
All I ever wanted, the only wish I ever had, was to run away with you and never stop running.
Do you know what really turns me on? What I find incredibly sexy? Kindness.
Every time you touch me, my knees begin to tremble and my body becomes like an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.
To find a love so perfect, so incredibly wonderful—such is the curse of being mortal.