The truth was he was too good for me, and I was more comfortable leaving. It was safer. I could protect my heart, my soul. The problem was, neither of them was mine any longer. They were his and had been for some time now. He had picked up the pieces, bit by jagged, broken bit, and put them back together. Somehow, he had healed them and made me whole. So even if my love was a dark, powerful, brutal thing, it was still just love.
