She is the light in his dark days.
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
“Man,” she wrote, “is a being of self-made soul.”
In such moments, she could almost touch her loneliness, as if it were her second child.
“I loved Gianna for years before she ever even looked at me. Love isn’t hearts and flowers. Sometimes, it fucking sucks.”
