Broken but not gone

I hate how the sweet smell of roses reminds me of him. I hate how the multicolored glass reminds me of his eyes. I hate how he was inexplicably handsome beyond belief. I hate how melodic his voice sounds; it was like nails on a chalkboard to my ears at first. I hate how carefree he was. I hate how intelligent he was. He was passionate, he was my enemy.

I hated how I craved him, though. I craved him in ways that I couldn't even explain. I hated how I craved his optimism. I hated how I craved his love,

but soon I learned that I craved him. I craved him in ways that I couldn't even explain. I craved his love.

He possessed the ability to lift me out of my darkness. I had been swallowed by the demons of my past to the point of no return. He found me, he took me out and showed me light. He was the light. He had once been a demon sent from hell, but is now a angel sent from the heavens.

I was happy. I laughed. I was wanted. Hell, I was wanted.

He brought me love, lust, and happiness. He was my whole world. My adoration for him was deep and as wide as the Pacific ocean. We were wired to love, him and I. We were wired for one another. The stars were aligned for one another. He was mine, and I was his. Passionate, intense, fervent love was all that we had.