Sometimes it’s not even in the words he speaks, no, it’s in his fingertips, have you ever been touched so good that you feel at home in his arms?
Beads of perspiration trickling as he arouses your nerve endings…
He creeps from behind and whispers in your ears…words you would never want your mom to hear because she needs to feel like you are still a “good little angel”
But he broke your wings a long time ago, hell, he has broken a lot of things you use to have…
He is your weak fence, he knows the corners you try to keep a secret, he is so bad for you that it feels so good
He is toxic! but his poison is the sweetest way to die
I’m addicted to his bad influences

—haha I have this bad habit of thinking out loud


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