What makes a coward?
Hate easily befits the void created by love. Easily. Like it was one and the same being.
She smiled the same infectious smile. While her heart was tattered into pieces. She smiled and it hurt just the same, like when she cried at night.
Life. Irony. Sadist.
Laugh at her timidity.
Laugh at her brave facade.
Because you see her soul through her eyes.
You watch with lecherous laughter at the storm they reflect.
But it’s not you she’s afraid off.
She’s frightened of her own masochism.
Her own strength makes her weak.