I remember when I was somewhere around sixteen

a man who was significantly older than myself told me he had given up on love.

When I asked him why, he told me it had to do with a road block.

I don't have a garage door or a rifle, I am nothing more than unqualified.

I am a large apartment window with shreds of paper throughout it's panes.

What a silly idea, of course, to fall in love.

The shreds flood downwards and your blood pressure rises.

She always felt one thing and him, the other, and

you work late to fight off your pulse.