he was wonderful to her; he caressed her and adored her.
she enjoyed his touch, craved it even.
but she failed to understand that with every finger he lay on her, with every touch that burned her skin, he wished to hurt her. he wished for her to suffer.
she was blind, oh so blind to the man he really was.
for he was cryptic.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
What He Was (✓)
Poesíahe was her lover, she was his servant. he was her salvation, she was his puppet. he was her catastrophe and she was his provocation. • Please don't read this if you're younger than thirteen. #02 in short story 6/3/17 #03 in short story 13/1/17 #04...