“My love is not gentle, or tender, or easy. But it is real, grown from hate and pain deep inside a chest sullied by shadows. It is cutting and biting, leaving behind scars as unfading as my love for you.” His warm lips scathed my jawline.
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“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”
― As You Like It
― As You Like It
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