It Did Not

I was intoxicated by his voice.
A single syllable would send me head first into a collision of emotions so deep and senseless that I became enveloped in all that I felt for him.
I was in my truest form when I was with him, but also I had felt so fraudulent because it was inexplicable to me that he could love me as shameful and as brutal as I came.
He did not feel sorry for me in ways that my parents or my friends did.
He kept me hauntingly honest, as if the mere thought of him made my insides be completely revealed.
I was every color when he was around, but I shadowed my subconscious in grey because I feared that his love nor his fire would not stay.

And it did not.

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