3.7(7)

Iron & Bone

A knife that cut too deep, a slash that still burns, failures piled high and flammable. I held my losses at bay with knives, with guns, my hands, my bike, my brothers,

my iron will.

But not my heart. No, my heart was the flame that would light the match, ignite the blaze.

I am the enforcer—the killer when called upon,

the ruthless hound on demand, the one who cleans the mess left behind.

I am the protector—I can make you bleed, smash you to pieces. But she smashed all my excuses, and I shattered hers. For a split second she was mine, but I will always be hers.

Some things, really beautiful things, you can't hold onto forever.

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