How do you know you’re a boozer? Well, you’re a fucking boozer if (There are a multitude of ifs. Prepare yourself, you poor young man):
I can never say what I should say. Too late; I say it when it shouldn’t be said alone in the dark I speak slowly lowly muffled in sheets trampled under breath I say it you know I try to say it, love, under a sigh part of a laugh part of a death... I’d …
It was a kiss goodbye in more ways than one. Goodbye for now, you’ll be back in a week. Goodbye for now, you will let him go. You will go home.
She said, pretty bluntly, that neither of us was going to call this Our Great Love Story
It’s in the subway, at the exit you and your boyfriend got off after an hour of travel because you couldn’t stand the hot train anymore, that you realise how much you want to crack open your own ribs.