4
" reining yourself in because why ruin a good thing? why make it weird? and then you say goodbye, with a hug, with a snarky remark, and head home. you climb into bed and imagine them with you. you think about how their hair falls in their face, about how they breathe when they sleep. you think about them waking up and nudging you into consciousness with soft kisses down your torso. you sit in bed and think of all the ways you could make their soul dance. how you know their quirks and it all feels so right, but why? why is this happening? why can’t you just be content with what you have now? except even now you have to control the urge to kiss them, even though it is in your nature, even just on the cheek, because what if it breaks the relationship apart at the seams? you may not even mean it sexually or romantically, but what if? and there’s always the chance they have felt this way too. but it’s only a chance. and why risk it? so you lay there in bed and twist the sheets around your legs and text them back about another person they have feelings toward and coax them into something healthy. you put their happiness before your own. you watch as they stumble and help them rise mightily. you gush over them and try to snuff out the selfishness that builds whenever you see them with someone else. it wouldn’t be fair to them to impose your own wants on them and take away a good friendship. it isn’t always about you. and yet here you are, writing this. writing this and thinking of someone specific the entire time. "
― Taylor Rhodes , calloused: a field journal
10
" I wanted to write you a love poemBut my heart feels out of tuneSo I coax my breath into the darkness of my rib cage And invite it to fan openMaybe I would say something like," One day, I would like to fall in love with you," And here I pause while the tears that have been threatening to rain down all day swell high in my chest, blurring my vision" One day, I would like to fall in love with you," I will start writing again, & continue," wherever you are, whoever you are, but in this moment, I will fall in love with me." My brow furls ever so slightly, because that is not what I expected to sayI pause again & allow the container to soften, for the edges to get blurryAnd the tears, one by one spill overAnd all the holding of the day crumples awayAnd I am me again & you are you again,too "
11
" Even you, the professional helper, often mistaken for the enlightened Guru or Staretz, can become lost in your thoughts that you must be competent without fault. You may become enthralled with your identity as a professional, even the pressures of the culture of mastery that expects you to heal your clients without fail. Never mind all of the variables over which you have no control, it is up to you, according to the canons of mastery, to control the health and well-being of those for whom you provide professional care. This potentiates a furthering alienation between you and your clients. You are at risk to become, if you have not already, the one who does to your clients; to be the one the active subject acting upon the passive and receptive objects, your clients; to be the one in possession of special knowledge, technique and mastery. All of this conspires to coax or coerce you into treating your client as reduced, a mere case. Unawareness to these influences gives you little chance to consider their influence on your practice in the clinical setting, much less give attentive efforts to resist or change them. "
― Scott E. Spradlin
13
" It's just like any relationship," Raelin told him with a grin, while Aldri practiced over and over again. " You need to coax her, persuade her, impress her, not knock her over the head with a mallet. Sometimes, for complicated things, you even need to grovel a little—but I'll teach you that later, some of the syllables in Faerilíca can take weeks to learn correctly. For now, keep trying to catch her eye in silence." " But magic is only converted energy and emotion," Aldri reminded him. " I already possess it, I only need to use it." " And just how do you want to take ten minutes' running energy or your liking for the color blue, and throw it out in front of you as an arrow-stopping shield, hm? "
17
" Cormag caught his hand and pulled him back until they were facing each other. “I think you're amazing,” he said, blurting the words out.
Lachlan smiled, completely shocked and thrilled by how captivating he found him.
He had never thought this could happen to him, that he would be attracted to another boy.
He thought he knew himself so well.
“I think you're smart, sexy, funny as hell. You have hidden depths, Lachlan. You only need the right person to coax you out of your protective shell,” he claimed.
“Are you the right person?” Lachlan wondered, as he took a half step forward.
Cormag took a deep breath and brushed at a strand of hair that was sticking out at a funny angle from behind the top of his ear. He tugged at his short hair every time he talked about his recent break up. He was such a dork. "
― Elaine White , Decadent (Decadent, #1)
20
" I coax my palm into his lapel in search of my wish, returning his feverish kiss. " Checkmate, you son of a bug," I say against his mouth two seconds before my fingers find an empty pocket." Sleight of hand, blossom," he says right back. " 'Tis in fact in my pants pocket, if you'd like to search there." I shove him off and drop to the floor, wiping my mouth. " It's mine!" " And you'll receive it when the time is right." His lips, all I can look at, tilt into that smug smile that I've come to detest. He motions toward the chair. " Sit. You've just been soundly kissed. No doubt you're short of breath." " Don't flatter yourself." I huff in an effort to hide the gulp of air and hold the teddy bear against my chest. " That kiss meant nothing. It had underlying motivation." " Oh, to be sure. That kiss was nothing if not motivational. "