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You see the truth in people, even when you were taught not to. You saw me.” “I see you,” I whisper, running my fingers over his face, kissing his lips softly. “I see you.”
sobbing
“You’re the kind of guy devils tell angels to go talk to to get them to fall, not knowing you’re the type to save them from the depths of Hell they’ve surrendered themselves to.”
“You save me,” he says in a raspy tone. “You wreck me, break me apart, pick up my pieces, and you fucking save me.”
We heal each other with the love we’re constantly feeling the need to prove. Only we don’t need to prove it. Not even a little bit. How do you prove the intangible?
