The core of childish sensitivity outweighed her crippling naivety. Nary a feathery stroke fell upon her skin, but as circling overcame maturity it became as new and naked as ever. I saw her for the birth of raw words and jaded minds.
It was so far from the truth I mistook it for love. Some kind of amalgam of misplaced affection. It was wasted on just the right one as her lies fell from silence.
The only woman that has truly had me wrapped around her finger whilst I simultaneously had the same effect on her still has such a powerful pull on my spirit. I think she may always have control over me.