but we weren't playing, were we?
i've given up
and accept the fact,
you'll never tell me.
YOU ARE READING
hunter ▸ book one
Poezjafrom like to love to hate then start at the beginning again, it was like a cycle, a cycle that i wanted to end yet i can't because i love the every edge of his imperfections, and his perfect flaws [ © 2014 greyfilmplaying ] poetry #48 | short story...
fourty-seven
but we weren't playing, were we?
i've given up
and accept the fact,
you'll never tell me.
