He Is Not Sweet Or Gentle Or

I Love You" I Say. "i Love You, Too" He Says. "i'll See You Soon.

You Think My First Instinct Is To Protect You. Because You're Small, Or A Girl, Or A Stiff. But You're Wrong." He Leans His Face Close To Mine And Wraps His Fingers Around My Chin. His Hand Smells Like Metal. When Was The Last Time He Held A Gun, Or A Knife? My Skin Tingles At The Point Of Contact, Like He's Transmitting Electricity Through His Skin. "my First Instinct Is To Push You Until You Break, Just To See How Hard I Have To Press." He Says, His Fingers Squeezing At The Word Break. My Body Tenses At The Edge In His Voice, So I Am Coiled As Tight As A Spring, And I Forget To Breathe.

I Am Afraid Of Her, Afraid Of What She Says-and Thrilled By It Too, Because It Means I Don't Have To Accept That I Am Smaller Than I Once Believed.

Grief Is Not As Heavy As Guilt, But It Takes More Away From You.

A Breeze Blows Through The Alley, Pushing Me To One Side, And I Think Of Scaling The Ferris Wheel With Tobias. He Kept Me Steady Then. There Is No One Left To Keep Me Steady Now.