Because twelve years ago, on a warm summer night in August, not much different than tonight, I held an angel in my arms and let the shadows in her eyes—the ones that fit so well with mine—convince me trouble could be a good thing. A place where love could be forged in fire and not come out in a heap of ashes. A place where twin flames could exist together without burning everything around them down. Her shadows were wrong, but I was too busy pressing a lifetime of hopes and dreams into the smooth creases of her skin with my desperate kisses and reverent touches to notice. I didn’t know then
...more
