Your sparkling eyes
Make it hard to see behind the lies
Why do I put up with this disguise

I know what I have given you…
I do not know what you have received.

I think it is all a matter of love; the more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes.

Things usually make sense in time, and even bad decisions have their own kind of correctness.

"I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt."

Soon we will be strangers. No, we can never be that. Hurting someone is an act of reluctant intimacy. We will be dangerous acquaintances with a history.