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I want to drag you off and hide you away,” he whispered. “Why?” “I always knew you were beautiful, but now everyone else will too. I won’t be able to keep other boys away from you, and it’ll make me crazy.

Ann Aguirre

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Ann Aguirre
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: August 27
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
the United States of America
Ellen Connor
Ava Gray
Make
Crazy
Always
Knew
Everyone
Away
Keep
Whispered
Else
Drag
Beautiful
Hide
Able
Boys

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As I dive between the legs of a big Gunnar, I see Mair wind up and slam her shockstick hard as she can between the V of another guy’s thighs. Falling, he makes a noise that I can’t say I’ve heard a human utter before, sort of like I imagine a puppy would sound being put through a juicer.
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He is not the same person as when we met, but . . . neither am I. Time has refined us, but instead of pushing us apart, we’re closer than ever.
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His lashes, fluttered like butterfly wings. I could've made you happy, dove. You did, I whispered
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There are quiet ways to die where the body just doesn’t notice that the heart is gone.
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How can you miss someone who’s right beside you?
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We’re bound by chains of love, but they don’t weigh us down. Instead, they allow us to be bigger and better than we are.
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I felt like the blonde in every horror movie who hears a noise in the basement and goes to investigate alone. Sometimes you smell the stupid all around you, but you step in it anyway.
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Men always want to be remembered whereas women realize that requires being dead.
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Sometimes I miss the old me.
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With a polite smile, I decided she was insane.
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Perhaps that was the point life, if you did it right, meant learning and changing. If you didn't, you died- or stopped growing - which amounted to more or less the same thing. So I would slide in and out of different roles until I discovered the one that fit me best. -Deuce, (183)
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Sometimes the past needed to stay buried it was the only way you could move on. And sometimes you had to dig it up, because that too was the only way.
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There’s a hollow where he used to be, and it echoes with self-imposed loss.
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He's never going to sit at my feet and write me poems, which is good because I hate poetry, except dirty ones that rhyme.
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A curve of silver hung amid the brighter specks it looked to me like a curved dagger, pretty but deadly, as if it might slice the sky in two.
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Love sounded terrible if it made you so weak, you couldn't survive with out it.
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But I miss the woman I was, even as I learn to accept the new creature I’ve become.
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I sighed. 'It's hard. You're the only one who listens to what I have to say.' Longshot dropped a gentle, comforting arm around my shoulders. 'Then speak louder, girl. Don't let them put out your spark.
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Is that love? It seems like a pale word, too easily tossed about by people who don’t know the meaning of it, who twist it for their own ends. I’m afraid of it now, right up there with clowns, close spaces, and open flames.
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There’s a reason I hate jigsaw puzzles. I don’t have the patience to find all the border pieces, especially when they’re all the same shade of gray.
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