Almost. It’s a big word for me. I feel it everywhere. Almost home. Almost happy. Almost changed. Almost, but not quite. Not yet. Soon, maybe.
— Joan Bauer, Almost Home (via larmoyante)
He says he wants to taste me, pulling up my skirt, searching for the places that make me hold my breath. I want to get lost in him, wrap my arms and legs around him. I want to forget my mother, forget myself, forget we are on a roof and down the block my grandmother is already making dinner. I want him to roll me under, twist me open like a bottle cap, kiss my spine gutter deep.
— Angie Cruz, Soledad (via letters-to-nobody)