Coco J. Ginger Quotes
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In my story you're the villain. But in my heart, you're still the reigning King.
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Life is wonderful when you're the one to write it.
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I pull away, you pull me back, you grab my hand and wrap me around. What you did not know is—– my heart is my hand.
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You break me the hardest, make me the strongest, and keep me the softest.
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You can only use someone for so long before you dry them out. How long does a muse last? When do you let them loose?
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I miss your silent stature, your avoided days of disaster, your present state of distress. I’m cinnamon, cloves and fire, you are the rested cedarwood of desire.
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Fuck you perfectionism. Without you, I am brilliant.
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...I feel like a traitor, a phony, a fake. But I am a hypocrite with the best intentions, and I need kissing desperately.
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When you miss someone....it’s weird…your body doesn’t function normally..as it should. Because I miss you, and my heart…it’s not steady…my soul it sings numb. Fingers are cold…like you…your soul.
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...just friends, over and over you said it again—-then you kissed me.
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And why is it that time speeds and slows depending on your attendance? I’d like a steady clock, a reliable clock, isolated from the progressive beating of my heart.
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When we are in love, we are convinced nobody else will do. But as time goes, others do do, and often do do, much much better.
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I love you, with no beginning, no end. I love you as you have become an extra necessary organ in my body. I love you as only a girl could love a boy. Without fear. Without expectations. Wanting nothing in return, except that you allow me to keep you here in my heart, that I may always know your strength, your eyes, and your spirit that gave me freedom and let me fly.
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He's a gypsy killer. He has a special gypsy killing knife.
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Elegant writers depict intricacy with simplicity.
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Make your choice and make it quick, either build a real heart, or get out of my way QUICK.
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No heartbreak has grieved me as much to discover, the calorie content of my peanut butter.
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You tear me down just to build me up again. All I can think is: you are a psycho-clown.
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But every spiteful word she ever wrote him was effortless love clenched in her fists. Her heart screaming for stability in this fiery game of desire.
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I pretended to be an open book, but I was closed off and conceited.