It wasn't love, just our demons dancing.


some say it's true, others say it doesn't exist.

I was one who said I don't believe in love. Not sure it really exists. Even if it does for some it won't for me. 


Until one day a HOO-RAH shouting, cami wearing, tatted up, bull decides to change that. 

He is stubborn, mad at himself for the things that he can't go back and change.


He isn't embarrassed to love me and tells me all the time,

He saves my pictures, whether good or bad so he can look at them when he misses me,

he loses sleep just to talk to me.


Trust me, I knew who I was dancing with the entire time. I just chose to see the good in him. 

He doesn't think I should change that about myself. Only because it's possible that that my energy could even bring out the best in the devil.


He was a risk,

a mystery,

and the most

certain thing I'd ever known. 

In the end, we are all just broken people, drunk on the idea that love, and only love will piece together all our brokenness. 


Since meeting him, I wake up now and it doesn't hurt as bad. 

Since meeting him, I finally stopped setting myself on fire just for people who stayed to watch me burn.

He taught me that the fire within me burns brighter than the one around me.

He loves me, not for the way I dance with his angles, but for the way the sound of my name can silence his demons. 





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