Addicted

Addicted

A year or so ago I met a man at a cake shop. He was shy and sweet – pretty apt now I look back.

I became his “cupcake girl”. Cautious form the sharp and hurtful memories of all to recent past experiences, I took it slow. He made me a mixtape and dinner, held my hand and welcomed me into his life.

He had a tattoo over his heart of a man hand holding a mirror showing the reflection of a dead and dark skull. He wasn’t even the “tattoo type” if that’s even a thing.

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