Distrust
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She was there, then she wasn’t.
She would play with my emotions like a well-played guitar.
Then she would disappear. Making me want to strangle her.
Maybe she wasn’t a ghost, maybe she was the giver of sin. Because we sinned every time we touched, every time she was near.
Her lips were shaped like a heart, deceiving you at every word.
Her body was created straight from my fantasies, one I craved to bend to my will.
Her heart, well, who the hell knew. She kept that shit locked tight.
And I couldn’t find the key.
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Autoren-Profil
USA Today Best Selling Author T.L. Smith loves to write her characters with flaws so beautiful and dark you can't turn away. Her books have been translated into several languages. If you don't catch up with her in her home state of Queensland, Australia you can usually find her travelling the world, either sitting on a beach in Bali or exploring Alcatraz in San Francisco or walking the streets of New York.
