Description
I remember his touch, singularly capable of setting my skin on fire and rigorously pumping my blood through my veins. He was a paradox, he rested somewhere on the borderline between love and hatred, but it only made me want him more. They told me what he was like, they told me stories that would make even the most reckless of people walk away, but it fell on deaf ears. He was always right there to contradict the things I didn't want to believe, the cadence of his voice reached to my soul drowning out the sounds of those who told me otherwise. It's common for people to be angry at the end, to sit around and wonder where things went wrong, to wish things could be different. It wasn't the end I regretted, it was the beginning. All Rights Reserved to @butterflytattoo
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