Your scent is like a drug to me like my own personal brand of heroin.
Wind and breeze are separated todayCrimson twilight denies to fade away Grass blades turn brown to match the soilWe pretend to smile at every turmoil
Waddya want me to do? through my sling shot at him?
I wanted the monster back and that was plainly wrong.
Because I want to have sex with him--and because that's sinful--I'm blushing and flushing furiously under his scrutinizing scrutiny.
And so the lion fell in love with the lamb." - Edward Cullen, Twilight
When twilight sleeps holding the nightIn your arms you embrace me tightRunaway hours clenched by kisses More of your love my heart misses
Julie started the engine, and the air around the BSA danced to life, this time enclosing them in a roaring privacy - a momentary country, trembling at the curb. Outside, beyond their borders, the hone...
I was a vampire, and she had the sweetest blood I’d smelled in eighty years.
Fall down again, Bella?'No, Emmett, I punched a werewolf in the face.
Books like Twilight are not art. They are mass-produced crap that is meant to be consumed by the widest possible audience, for the largest possible profit.