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Like moth to flame. She was the tide being pulled by the moon.
It calmed her raging soul like a balm to a burn.
The only thing soft about the woman was her cashmere. She was made of precise opinions and severe edges.
Like she was a painting he wished to spend an eternity admiring in different lights to understand her shadows. Like he wanted to stare and search into her soul until he found the brushstrokes that had created her. Yearned to understand the shades she was made of.
“Don’t settle for easy, Alexandria. Try to find something that sets you on fucking fire.”