The kind people write songs and poems and suicide notes.It’s that exotic kind of beauty that even in romance novels obsess over, even if they have n... idea who you are because they must possess you. That kind of beauty. Her lips which made me wonder how she survived with those sugar lips, maybe there is no ant in her territory.Her lips were like soft ridges of dunes in the desert at sunset like the crests of waves meeting in the rush to shore, like folded wings of courting birds and yet to wine,. Wasn't that the procrastinator's litany? Never do today what you can put off 'til tomorrow. I did have my reasons for delay, such as they were, though; I knew I was going to set off a stormcloud. We hadn't fought once, or even argued seriously, since she'd come to me this way, and I wasn't looking forward to the first one."Well, I had to find out if it worked, didn't I?" I stalled. "And I did, it works good. See why I wanted this instead of just buying a gun?" Maybe I could divert the flow.Not. More

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