Always.

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They called him dangerous. But yet, he was my safe.
I had fallen in love with the side of him that no one else knew. He was, and still is my favorite reason to loose sleep. He smelled, felt and tasted like love. pure, inevitable love.
I loved every thing about him.
The gentle way he spoke, the way his soft brown eyes danced merrily when he performed for me, looking for me in a sea of people.
In France, they say that when you catch the eye of someone you would die for, it's called "raison d'être" or a reason for living and god, was he mine.
He doesn't know it but he has so much power over me, but it never scared me.
he was comfort. The kind you feel on a summer day, sitting on the bank of a river just watching. that kind of comfort.
when he touched me, it felt like stars danced across my skin.
His eyes held everything my soul was hungry for.
He walked a fine line between beautifully macabre and unapologetically chaotic. He was whiskey in a tea cup and I loved him with every atom in my being.
He was the poetry I wanted to write.

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