You are my latest bad habit.
I know you're poison.
But I can't restrain. I won't.
For I want the scars of our tempestuous end to mar and defile me; a tigress earning her stripes.
I will be proud to have loved him.
YOU ARE READING
Desolate Moon (SS 2)
Poetrymore exhibitionism, more emotional outbursts, more uncomfortably uncut honesty. TRIGGER WARNING.