My baby lives in various shades of grey, everything he does is just as dark as his soul.
He has a bad attitude hidden behind his stupidly beautiful hazel eyes that I grew to love so ing much. He drives the most expensive car in town and I surely love the way his pride oozes off him when people stop and stare to admire it. My baby is so cocky, so self centered and so vain but I love him that way.

I love the way he makes me feel, the way my name flows from his bubblegum flavored tongue, the way his heart pounds with excitement whenever we’re together in bed.
My baby calls my name, not everyone else’s.
My baby lives for love; my baby has the same strange appetite for destruction as I do, the same love for the impossible and the same aspirations as I do. I can’t heal him, I can’t cure him, there’s nothing I can do to make him better and he only gets worst… I can’t fix him the same way he fixed me.

I’m not worthy; I’m not able to turn to the same page as he’s on. He’s invincible, my baby is indestructible, unbreakable and I’m not.
I’m not as strong as he is.
I’m not him.
And even if I have him by my side, I feel neglected and abandoned.
My baby is everything to me; my dragon calls my name in the iest way possible. He wants me, not everyone else; he wants to feed of me because I’m his drug.
I’m his ecstasy, his body extension.
Our minds are connected, our bodies are connected.
My baby is selfish and so am I.
My hot lover is so pretentious, his heart is unbreakable.

I’m his drug, his escape, his nothing.

My baby lives in shades of cool and I live in my baby’s shade.