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I'll only disappoint you.

That sentence should’ve deterred me from Poe Hanson—it should’ve at least kept me from falling in love with him.

The problem was, by the time he uttered those words it was already too late. He already had my heart, whether he wanted it or not.

From the moment I first saw his sad eyes and guitar-worn hands, I knew I wanted him. His darkness spoke to my darkness.

His hurt danced with my hurt. We seemed like a perfect fit.

Except for one small detail—the only thing he will ever love is music.

When he came to me offering a way I could finally have some part of him—to be friends with benefits—I knew it was dangerous, destined to fail.

 

I'd always need more.

But it didn’t matter. I took him in any way I could have him, knowing one day my heart would pay the price.

I didn’t expect to be anything more than friends. I didn’t foresee our damaged puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. It didn’t occur to me that while I was handing my heart over to him; he was unknowingly doing the same.

Most of all, I never thought the scars of my past could be mended by a love that had always been founded on rejection.

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