Nobody ever suspects anything. They think I'm like a rose.
Soft ass petals, with a few thorns.
I wilted a long time ago.
The petals are gone.
The thorns are left.
I spilt lots of red to get where I am.
I don't mean the petals...
He will never know.
No one will ever know.
The color will die alongside the thorns. Tearing away at every seam, ever so carefully.
YOU ARE READING
You are mine. Mine.
FanfictionIt doesn't make a difference. Everything is already set in stone. He is mine. Only mine.
