“The way your shoulders shift in your slumber, the way the moonlight ignites the charcoal of your hair, the pauses between the words and smoke that emanate precociously from your mouth. If I had any preconceived notions about love, they were all dissipated upon the feeling that crawled under my skin and slept there for several winters. I wish I could love you partially or in jubilant reminiscence of a chemical youth, but I love you ever-presently, ever-consciously, and ever-painfully.” by Anonymous