Loving him can only be compared to the way you feel watching fireworks pop in the sky on a hot summer night. the butterflies you get looking into his eyes are like the feeling of finally getting water at the end of a hike. it was such a high to look into his eyes knowing he loved you, and only you. how could we let this go? that was it he slipped right through my finger tips, and although i loved him i was forced to walk away. to leave him was to watch him drown in a shallow pool with a gun to my head. the worst pain in the worst way, and although it was heavenly at first, it quickly became violent.
"these violent delights have violent ends."
