His words were lies through teeth, and I should've known. Oh, I should've lnown.

Uncanny eyes, and stupid flattery, and how he made me feel so unique.

It's all so dumb, isn't it? I let him in despite my better judement, and started writing about his habit of never finishing cigarettes.

How he took whiskey in chipped glasses, and the bitter alcohol tasted like his own blood. And how things were always a demsotration of power, control, carelessness- rough hands and champagne smiles, and splinted knuckles, and mignight kisses.

And I guess now I know how much a person can realy ******* over.