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“No, man,” I blew out a laugh. “I mean a chick who doesn’t do shit for you unless you do shit for her.” “That sounds like a lot of work,” he said thoughtfully. “The sweetest fruit is the one you pick yourself,” I said and he raised an eyebrow at me. “Did you write that poetry just for me, baby?” I shrugged out of his hold, ramming my shoulder into his and we both laughed. “Shut the fuck up.” “Noted.” He grinned.
“The best of things move on swift and silent wings, look closely dear and you can have it all, but beware my love, for even angels fall...”
“To everyone else you’re like this perfect little doll, but I can see how fractured and torn apart you are inside,” he breathed. “I can see the cracks in the perfection. I can see the poison that’s tainting your essence. And every break, every scar and burn and fissure in your soul only makes it more beautiful. Only makes you more perfect to me. This pain is strength. This agony is beauty.”
The void. “Don’t look back!” Mars under the influence of the stars. Golden crossroads. Three pennies. A hand guiding me free. Chamber in the walls. “I love you - run!” Death rattle. The eyes of the devil. “Even your memories aren’t safe.” Dark eyes filled with love and sorrow. A baby crying. He didn’t help. Lies.
“I know, carina. But the earth would still turn whether the moon was watching or not. Maybe she likes the company though.”