Hurt

 
She admires the reflected sunlight
and thinks of him. She thinks of 
his touch, and that enchanting
smile that captured every part
or her soul… deeply.
 

He is hurt.

He cannot quite place his finger on it, and doesn’t exactly know why, but a part of him is. Deep down, he is.

Maybe it was the harshness of the truth in her words, intended with the sweetest form of sincerity. Maybe it was the fact that she never truly chased him. Perhaps the decision itself hurt him, even though both knew not much could be done. 

Maybe his prideful self never thought someone could resist such words, such form of admiration, discovery, and adventure.

Perhaps the aftermath wasn’t of his liking; She always kept far from what was expected.

It thrills him, hurts him, and amazes him.

~

What has her drug 
became her antidote.
 
 
 
Photo

 

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