"And I write about love like I know love, but me and love have never officially met. I have only ever seen him from my window. But me and yearning, we're old friends, we go way back. He and I share the same mother tongue."
Following
Sign up to join the largest storytelling community
or
Story by _fourletterpoison_
bleeding like a rose.
Named after a dead girl, born in the aftermath of a funeral, raised as a consolation prize, given to a Don wh...