Quotes About Intimacy

Si te caes te levanto y sino me acuesto contigo

Come sleep with me: We won't make Love,Love will make us.

It ain't how long you know somebody that means anything. It's what that person mean to you in your heart.

We got married in a fever hotter than a pepper sprout.

Self-determination has to mean that the leader is your individual gut, and heart, and mind or we're talking about power, again, and its rather well-known impurities. Who is really going to care whether you live or die and who is going to know the most intimate motivation for your laughter and your tears is the only person to be trusted to speak for you and to decide what you will or will not do.

Buddy and Angela keep track of daytime just by figuring out the last and next time they will come together and how long alone. They become the heated habit of each other.

These poems they are things I do in the dark reaching for you whoever you are from "These Poems

You eventually erase her contact info from your phone but not the pictures you took of her in bed while she was naked and asleep, never those.

and when he thought about the way she laughed, as though she owned the air around her, his heart thundered inside his chest, a lonely rada.

You said i could call you when i wanted but that you wouldn't call me. you have to decide where and when, you said. if you leave it up to me i'll want to see you every day. At least you were honest, which is more than i can say for me.

Tell her that you love her hair, that you love her skin, her lips, because, in truth, you love them more than you love your own.

You try every trick in the book to keep her. You write her letters. You quote Neruda. You cancel your Facebook. You give her the passwords to all your e-mail accounts. Because you know in your lying cheater's heart that sometimes a start is all we ever get.

I was staring at you and you were staring at me and right then it was sort of like love, wasn't it?

You know how it is when you get back with somebody you've loved. It felt better than it ever was, better than it ever could be again

Do you remember? When the fights seemed to go on and on, and always ended with us in bed, tearing at each other like maybe that could change everything. In a couple of months you'd be seeing somebody else and I would too; she was no darker than you but she washed her panties in the shower and had hair like a sea of little punos and the first time you saw us, you turned around and boarded a bus I knew you didn't have to take. When my girl said, Who was that? I said, Just some girl.

I put my hand on her knee. I just wish you'd say you love me.

You can't find intimacy—you can't find home—when you're always hiding behind masks. Intimacy requires a certain level of vulnerability. It requires a certain level of you exposing your fragmented, contradictory self to someone else. You running the risk of having your core self rejected and hurt and misunderstood.

One of the ex-sucias publishes a poem about you online. It's called "El Puto

Then we fucked so that we could pretend that nothing hurtful had just happened.

YOU, YUNIOR, HAVE A GIRLFRIEND named Alma, who has a long tender horse neck and a big Dominican ass that seems to exist in a fourth dimension beyond jeans. An ass that could drag the moon out of orbit. An ass she never liked until she met you.

She picks off my glasses and kisses the parts of my face that almost never get touched, the skin under the glass and frame

He used to sleep with my hair over his face. He used to say it made him feel safe.

He made her feel guapa and wanted and safe, and no one had ever done that for her. No one. On their nights together he would pass his hand over her naked body, Narcissus strokeing that pool of his, murmuring, Guapa, guapa, over and over again. (He didn't care about the burn scars on her back: It looks like a painting of a ciclón and that's what you are, mi negrita, una tormenta en la madrugada.)

You had an elaborate system that you thought would keep us out of bed: you sat on the other side of the room, you didn't let me crack your knuckles, you never stayed more than fifteen minutes. It never really worked, did it?