He's become the one the songs are about, and while part of me knows he's probably worth that, another part is yelling at me to slow the fuck down.

I thought you hung the moon.

All sorts of yayness floods my brain. Love is such a drug.

Maybe...you'll fall in love with me all over again."
"Hell," I said, "I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?"
"Yes. I want to ruin you."
"Good," I said. "That's what I want too.

Infatuation is not quite the same thing as love; it's more like love's shady second cousin who's always borrowing money and can't hold down a job.

I had to touch you with my hands, I had to taste you with my tongue; one can't love and do nothing.