—

“Maybe if I’d fucked you more and loved you less I could have left this battlefield wearing just bruises and teeth, but I’m sure that even the cavalry knows that there’s a crack in my heart and it’s been leaking your name ever since we stopped fighting this fight. What I’m trying to say is: you win. It’s all yours. I’m tired and I tried. I’m tired and I love you. I’m tired and I didn’t mean to.”

— Azra T.

contiguous, adj.
I felt silly for even mentioning it, but once I did, I knew I had to explain.
"When I was a kid," I said, "I had this puzzle with all fifty states on it — you know, the kind where you have to fit them all together.  And one day I got it in my head that California and Nevada were in love.  I told my mom, and she has no idea what I was talking about.  I ran and got those two pieces and showed it to her — California and Nevada, completely in love.  So a lot of the time when we're like this" — my ankles against the back of your ankles, my knees fitting into the back of your knees, my thighs on the back of your legs, my stomach against your back, my chin folding into your neck – "I can't help but think about California and Nevada, and how we're a lot like them.  If someone were drawing us from above as a map, that's what we'd look like; that's how we are."
For a moment, you were quiet.  And then you nestled in and whispered,
"Contiguous" 
And I knew you understood.
— The Lover's Dictionary, David Levithan