Love... this beautiful noun bares its thorns.
I've felt them, and pulling them out was anguish... I'm free.
Now I miss how my blood tainted my own hands knowing I was with him.
Please my love, continue to love me before I soon forget the sensation of those thorns that dug into my skin.
I miss you, I miss pain called love.
- Nevada
- JoinedDecember 21, 2015
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Story by ―✗お茶
- 1 Published Story
DEPRIVED || GUZMA
3.9K
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[Guzma × Reader]
❝ DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE YOU UNDERSTAND ME ❞
Being a nineteen year old you were loud and prou...
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