❛ i love women. ❜ but only a boy himself, his converse drag upon pavement and his bottom lip curves inward to catch between metal-stapled pearly whites. it's near pathetic, limp locks of hair falling to frame the tired bruise laying beneath his right eye ; a dulled color, somewhere between blue and yellow in the spectrum. that of freshly cut grass or an emerald, only ten times less vibrant and violent emotion balling in those pinpoint pupils of his. ❛ not girls. ❜












