“Beautiful.”

“What question?" I ask, breathless."Whether you're as beautiful in the morning as you are during the rest of the day.”

“I wait for him to announce my presence, holding his gaze, refusing to look away, determined that this beautiful boy see the face he sentences to death with this next words.”

“I will never see him again. Never know why he let me go. Never learn if he really whispered what I think he did. Beautiful.”

“He steps onto the sidewalk and rocks on the balls of his feet. He looks beautiful standing there, and a familiar ache starts in my chest as I wonder how I can love and fear the sight of someone with the same intensity.”

“I shrug like I don't care. ...Like every fiber of my being isn't weeping in need for him”

“The one voice I would hear even in death. A rotting corpse in the ground, I would sit up and take notice.”