图片发自简书App
There's nothing like a smoke after a meal.
图片发自简书App
He walked off, still laughing, as if he didn't hurt like me and wasn't covered in insect bites; as if he didn't have a care in the world, and wasn't returning to a dirty three-room house with no running water and broken windows covered with plastic.
Even if I had known the right thing to say I probably couldn't have said it. Talking destroy the efforts of love. Love is not soft, like those poets pay. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close.No word can close those love-bites. In fact, if the wounds dry up, the words will stop too.
