The Best You'll Ever Do Is To

I Felt Beautiful But Also Interrupted. I Wasn't Used To Being So Complicated.

I Felt Like An Undeveloped Photograph That He Was Printing, My Image Rising To The Surface Under His Gaze.

Darkness Coiled Between What He Wanted Them To Believe And The Self He Despised. It Only Made Him More Alone. How Could You Save Someone When He Didn't Let You Kno Him? What A Waste. The Beauty He Murdered In This Place. He Could Never See What He Had, Only What He Failed To Achieve.

She’s Never Where She Is,' I Said. 'she’s Only Inside Her Head.

I Wondered Why It Had To Be So Poisonous. Oleanders Could Live Through Anything, They Could Stand Heat, Drought, Neglect, And Put Out Thousands Of Waxy Blooms. So What Did They Need Poison For? Couldn't They Just Be Bitter? They Weren't Like Rattlesnakes, They Didn't Even Eat What They Killed. The Way She Boiled It Down, Distilled It, Like Her Hatred. Maybe It Was A Poison In The Soil, Something About L.a., The Hatred, The Callousness, Something We Didn't Want To Think About, That The Plant Concentrated In Its Tissues. Maybe It Wasn't A Source Of Poison, But Just Another Victim.