Yes, I'll let him see solely the dead parts of me.
Dead and weak.
Dead and flawed.
Dead and shattered.
'Cause I so despise that people fall for what they see.
I fell for him because he's he. I fell, and constantly fall everyday. Hopeless and cliche, no?
And as I peel myself off the good things I might show him and reveal grotesque scars instead, he'd hate me. He'd be disgusted by my cuts as I miserably fix his fragmented dark self and see blooming flowers in his dead garden.
|16:15|June 25, 2016|
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