It's a finger snapping kind of day.
MY MOONI'll always wonder what time it is there; if you're dreaming, or awake. My moon is your sun; my darkness, your light. I'm in the future, you'd jokingly say.And I know where you are, because I'm...
Defend myself? I cannot defend the verbal repressions of a boy. A curmudgeonly, cantankerous, ill-tempered, counterfeit boy.
A WISHSometimes I wish that he will liveand I will see him.But mostly I wish that he will die, and take my memories with him.
I wait, you play. You speak, I cave. I promise, you break. You game me, daily, you play me.
Writers do not have the privilege of sleep. There is always a story coming alive in their heads, constantly composing. Whether they choose it or not.
I want your most vital organ. I want it to be mine.
You break me the hardest, make me the strongest, and keep me the softest.
Her heart had grown so familiar to the pain of life without him, that to respond now seemed too large a pleasure she could not endure. If pain was love, then she loved fiercely. Yet knew she could not...
He brought out the worst in me, and was the best thing that ever happened to me.
If I wasn't so phenomenal. I would go back to you.
He cared less, so they cared more. He said it was beautiful. I knew he was broken.This was his game.
She stabbed him with her wicked pretty knife, disrupted his simple life.She's a player, a heartbreaker,and now she breaks alone.
When we are in love, we are convinced nobody else will do. But as time goes, others do do, and often do do, much much better.
...I feel like a traitor, a phony, a fake. But I am a hypocrite with the best intentions, and I need kissing desperately.
I wore your promise on my finger for one yearI'll wear your name on my heart til I dieBecause you were my boy, you were my only boy forever.
You cannot mistake thisYou cannot reinvent this moment You cannot call this loveIt is so much more
Maybe she had it wrong all this time and her empty heart could never be filled by his ingenious broken spirit. Maybe this yearning had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her.
But every spiteful word she ever wrote him was effortless love clenched in her fists. Her heart screaming for stability in this fiery game of desire.
He offered her power, money, status...a giant prison, all in exchange for only...her soul.
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