he has blonde hair and his lips taste of lemonade and mint.

he walks with fierce confidence that has me worshipping him as if he were a church.

my name falls from his lips like a prayer of despare and i am left on the edge of my seat.

kill me with a single kiss like a happily ever after except i die after and we're not happy.

his fingers coil around my esophogas like a snake on a tree branch and i am limp and unable to fight back.

it is his hand prints on my neck and the bite marks on my arm and then being told that the taste of lemonade on my lips is my own and he is not real.

you start to realize that you are the captivating blond boy who is tormenting you with what you have.