Loving Ares

Loving Ares

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Apr 6, 2016
Have you ever love someone in a way where it feels like being with that person is self-destruction? Thats how much I love him. I feel like the more time I spend being with him the deeper I'm digging my own grave. He's like a poison to me, or even worse a drug. I'm addicted to him, I'm addicted to the high that he brings that I can't see how much he's ruining me, my body, my soul and my mind. Everyone else can see the bad side effects of being with him. Everyone else can, but me. I choose to see the beauty in him, the parts of him where he doesn't allow other people to see. The soft, gentle and caring man beneath all his armor. Will that be enough? Will my love for him be enough that it could stop him from self-destructing? Is true love ever enough? If you expected this to be a fairy tale, you got it all wrong. This isn't Romeo & Juliet where the fought for love until they died or Cinderella where everyone lived happily ever after. This is my story. Learning how to love, heal and mend a broken man while he was slowly cutting me with his pieces.
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βπ€ππ―πšπ’π­ 𝐬𝐒𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐒𝐚 & 𝐌𝐒𝐀𝐬𝐑𝐚 π’π’π§π π‘πšπ§π’πšβž I should not feel anything for someone who is my enemy, someone who has caused me so much pain that the very thought of him should fill me with nothing but rage and bitterness. Yet, against all logic, I feel it-I feel the heat rising beneath my skin . The mere idea of his touch sends shivers down my spine, igniting sensations that I desperately want to ignore. This isn't right. I shouldn't crave the presence of someone I despise, but my body betrays me, responding to him in ways that my mind fiercely rejects. He stands so close that his breath fans across my face, warm and intimate, stirring emotions that I refuse to acknowledge. A slight movement is all it would take for our lips to meet, for this unbearable tension to shatter into something far more dangerous. His hands are braced on either side of my head, trapping me, yet he doesn't need to touch me to make me feel trapped. His body hovers just out of reach, yet I can sense him, every inch of him, as if the air itself is an extension of his presence. I shouldn't desire this man. I shouldn't want to close the gap, to feel the press of his body against mine. I should be repulsed, disgusted by how my thoughts betray my hatred. But my body doesn't listen to reason , it yearns for what it shouldn't, driven by instincts I can't control. I despise him-my enemy- My rival-but the line between hatred and desire is blurring, and I'm terrified of which side I might fall on. {𝖠 π—Œπ—π–Ίπ—‡π–½π–Ίπ—…π—ˆπ—‡π–Ύ } | | Mature content 18+| |

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