The Boy and His Ribbon Gönderileri
The Boy and His Ribbon kitaplarını, The Boy and His Ribbon sözleri ve alıntılarını, The Boy and His Ribbon yazarlarını, The Boy and His Ribbon yorumları ve incelemelerini 1000Kitap'ta bulabilirsiniz.
She’d willingly chosen self-harm because it was the only way to leach out some of the pain.
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In the middle of a manic Halloween party filled with Frankensteins and vampires and zombies, I knew the second the matching piece of my heart arrived.
Sad right?
Poetic?
Star-crossed?
Screwed up?
Probably all the above.
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Now we slipped into yet another fight, and I was tired of fighting. Tired of miscommunication and walking on eggshells.
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Strange how you could miss someone when they were apart of everything you did.
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I didn’t want people to know me.
That was where danger lay.
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Because I’m still here…alone…writing this sorry excuse of a story, pretending I can conjure him from nothing, desperately loving a memory, and killing myself with the knowledge that no matter how much I write about him. No matter what tales I tell you or secrets I spill, he’s not going to be there to tell me off. He’s not going to scold me for telling the truth. He’s not going to notice or care. I no longer need to pretend I don’t love him. I don’t need to lie that I don’t want him.
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I’m tired. I’ve been tired for far too long, and this is just ripping me into pieces.
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I wished we’d never met, so this lacerating torture would never find me. But then, the thought of living in a world where I didn’t have Della…
Fuck.
I’d rather be dead.
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No amount of chest rubbing or false soothing can cut away the pain growing like a cancer inside me.
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...it had showed me that I would never be allowed the one thing I wanted with all my heart.
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I backed away, unable to stop the repeat of her taste and touch and the dream and the wondrous feeling of finding everything precious, only to lose it in a heartbeat.
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Ren has never been a boy. Even when he was younger, he was braver, stronger, more attractive than any of the boys who think they’re men but are still just silly little children. He carries this melancholy melody inside him that just makes me want to protect him and have him protect me at the same time. When he touches me, it’s like fire. When he kisses me, it’s like drowning. When he pushes me down and thrusts inside me, it’s like falling into space, trusting him to never let you go, all the while hoping he will let you fall and then fall right along with you.
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Her quick-fire affection always melted my gruff heart, and she was the only one who could touch something inside me—slipping past my walls, infiltrating my fortresses to remind me that I might not like many humans but I loved one more than I could stand.
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And along the way, I lost count how many broken hearts I endured.
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I knew that a kiss meant more was to come and as bodies grew closer so too do minds and hearts.
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