He admits the fact that he tears you down. He admits your no decency. He admits your vulnerability. He admits your red-blood petals. He admits your strength.
She was right. He was no good.
YOU ARE READING
P O V
Random"Age is just number right?" he asked. "Perhaps" "You seems not agree. Why so?" again. "It might be number. By that, i mean the age itself. The memories on it, well... it last"
