...they still threw each other against walls, climbed up each other's bodies like ladders, and attacked each other's mouths as if they were performing resuscitation. The kisses had been earthquakes, shattering every glass object in a room. They had been thunderstorms, wiping out electricity so that candles had to be lit; then, those kisses extinguished the candle flames. They had been rainstorms on the driest, thirstiest desert days, causing camellias, hydrangeas, agapanthus, and azaleas to bloom in the garden. Those kisses -- they had been explosions.
I'll add pretty much anyone, but if you are only adding me to have my name on your friends list but have no interest in reading my journal at all, skip it. I'll figure it out and remove you eventually anyway.
[This isn't real. I'm not Angelina. Please do not attempt to make either of her children and feel that I am going to acknowledge you. I don't believe Angelina would want that and therefore I don't.]