“I smirk. There is no weird pillow talk and no pretending we're soft delicate people. No apologies, limits yes, but no shame.” — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
I'm going to be pissed if I walk all the way to the camp and end up getting shot. — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
The dark is a quiet place. Reflection and contemplation are the only things to do in it. Well that, and imagine the worst things… — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
“What are you doing?" He asks looking intimidating. I shrug, "I want pancakes." "I'll make you pancakes." I laugh and turn around to walk… — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
“I laugh, but it's not mine. It belongs to this bitch, who sometimes likes to come out of my throat and say shit I'm… — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
“Brandon has a shit-eating grin. I want to make him eat it. I know what's more realistic though. I'm going to get beaten up… — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
“He kissed my belly, “Just think. All the love that we have for each other, we put it in this safe place here.” He… — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
“The world in which we live is held together by love. The world in which we love is held together by fate. The world… — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
“If I didn’t take selfies, my friends wouldn’t even know what I look like.” — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
The world sits quiet, as if sighing and taking a long inhale after what seemed like forever with mankind and the noise pollution. — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
“They're normal. He's wearing a sweater and a polo and she's got on a blouse. The people who wore sweaters and blouses were the… — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
“He's normal and squeaky and responsible. Shell would call him Vanilla. I like Vanilla. You know what you're getting into with it. You can… — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
“I laugh nervously and jerk my hand free, "I want the you that tilts his head back and eats the snow. I want the… — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
“The image of him standing in the elevator doors, in his silver dress shirt and dark-grey dress pants wiping me off his lips, is… — Tara Brown Copy Share Image
