My soul is crushed under the weight of tears I can’t spill.
Emotional pain was the price I paid on the path to becoming a woman. So excuse me if I’m not clueless like a little girl.
He was the hunter of my soul, lying in wait - silently and motionless. Coaxing me out of hiding, Enticing me with love, Dangling hope in my face. Pulling me in, drawing me close. I gave in and walked into his trap. He did a good job too, tearing me apart and ripping my heart out. He was the hunter and I, the game. How could I forget that a hunter's job is to kill?
