By October 31, 2019 No Comments

Love is dangerous. You brave it because you have nowhere else to go.
Love is like old warm clothes that smells like home. You lie in it because his skin is warm and the hairs of his chest is as soft as silk.
Love is a brass cage. You weep but you know no one else would love you.
In the beginning his voice sounded like crystal clear laughter, like running water. Now they break you, those same words, as many times as he chooses to.
And you stay, sitting by the window, wishing you were the rain running free.


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