one

Maybe it was his motorcycle or the way his cigarette hung inbetween his lips or the prime factorilization that he was bad.

Bad in a good way. Maybe it was his dark brown eyes that made me fall deeply in love with him. Maybe it was all of it. All I knew was after the countless arguments we encountered, I always came running back.

I knew he was no good, but part of me hoped he was.

cover made by ; narryau