Jennifer Hartmann

We can’t give our heart to another without loving our own first.

To the fractured and broken:

You are worth fixing.

and her eyes even sort of twinkle as I study her from one seat over.

Wait… twinkle?

No. Fuck, no.

I don’t notice shit like eye twinkles. I don’t even fucking remember my own eye color half the time.

Parker—

I have my starting points.

Now, I have my turning point.

I think you saved my life that night.

—Melody

How’s your finger?”

“Still attached.”

I’m pretty sure a cow just flew past my window.”

There’s a resounding chill dwelling inside my bones as I watch the storm die out through the pane of glass, replaced by an eerie sky, painted dark and green.

Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.

then I’m thinking about her, the woman in the window, her hair light and sunny like the carpeting and undoubtedly just as soft. She told me her name was Syd, and she reeked of familiarity… but how could it be? How could she be my Syd?

My Syd was a fabrication.

My Syd was an artificial companion brought to life by my insatiable need to quell the loneliness.

I created her with the lead from my pencil tip and my own imagination.

Queen of the Lotus.

I guess that was why I loved too much. I had a lot of loveless holes to fill

One kiss, and I was already addicted to the taste of him.