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something doesn’t have to be wrong to go wrong.
“Because from the second I found out Eric was gone, all I wanted to do was hold you long enough to absorb your grief. To take every ounce of the pain you’ve been holding and carry it for you. When I boarded that plane, I knew I had no right to want any of those things, to want anything from you, but I want this, princess. I want to be here for you. Will you let me?”
“And I wanted you. I needed you. I needed you so badly I wished for you, Chris.”
“Do you know how desperate you have to be to wish for someone who destroyed you, to crave their presence even when you know it’s only going to cause you pain?”
Chris has hurt me in ways I can’t name, scarred me in places I can’t see. Because of him, the deepest corners of my soul are a wasteland, and the memory of him kneeling in front of Giselle was the poisoned rainwater that soaked into the soil and stole the possibility of anything beautiful or real blooming there.
Wondering what it meant that the same man who had killed me was the only one who could make me feel alive again.
“We won’t ever be done, princess. If we’re both here on this Earth, breathing, living, existing, then we are happening. Nothing is ever going to stop me from loving you.”
Small bursts of time together, of belonging to each other, that burn bright and fizzle out while we savor every second of the flame.
I’ll turn back the sky for her. Rewrite scripture, myth, and fiction. Undo the bindings of history books, tear out their pages and fill them with the story of us. Every desperate, stolen moment, every tangled breath.
infinitesimal
Hope is a dangerous thing. It holds you close like a lover, whispering promises it never intends to keep, and just as soon as you relax into its arms, it lets you go.
