"Her heart was wild but I didn't want to catch it. I wanted to run with it to set mine free."

I just got my copy of Love her Wild by Atticus and I really can get over how perfect this book is.

Poetry
to me
is stumbling in the dark
searching for
the right words
to describe
the feeling
I get
when she smiles
while she sleeps.

how cruel i was to myself. giving you credit for my warmth simply because you had felt it. thinking it was you who gave me strength. wit. beauty. simply because you recognized it. as if i was already not these things before i met you. as if i did not remain all these once you left.

"I watch her walk away, and I don't stop her or follow her. What an absolute idiot I've been. I've been acting like some mystical, crystal-worshiping dummy."

Some people called him a pioneer but he referred to himself as a full-time loser.