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I'll survive this.I'll live.But there's a hole in me, never to be filled.Maybe that's why people die of old age.Maybe we could live forever if we didn't love so completely. But we do. And by the time old age comes, we're filled with holes, so many that it's too hard to breathe. So many that our insides aren't even ours anymore. We're just one big empty space, waiting to be filled by the darkness. Waiting to be free.

“everything i know about faith and courage, i’ve learned from palestine”

most of my lovers had wanted only to take or be taken; they came to me warily or arrogantly, shy or swaggering, as to a caged wolf. But you—oh, you would come to me on your knees, as to a king, and you would give and give