Love. That’s what this is. It’s love.
Those heels make your legs look even hotter.
“I love you too. I am sorry for hurting you.”
I have no idea how you feel about me, because we aren’t capable of having a serious conversation. It’s always flirty and playful and downright meaningless.
You were made for love.
I have felt every damn thing you are feeling right now. And it isn’t fun. It’s heartbreaking, confusing, desperate. Even the most innocent text becomes a sign of hope.
Maybe, deep down, I knew it wasn’t the right time. And it wasn’t. It still isn’t.
My underwear is soaking wet now. I’m going to have to take them off soon.
When you suddenly realize your own worth, it won’t be so hard to finally close that door.
The love we are born into; it is the look in a mother’s eyes as she swaddles her child in blankets weaved of hopes for the future.