Love was a powerful thing, capable of tearing great men and great cities down. Love was a hurtful th
Love was a powerful thing, capable of tearing great men and great cities down. Love was a hurtful thing, capable of bringing pain that no medicine can cure. Love was a beautiful thing, capable of causing hope. Love was a spiteful thing, capable of sparking anger and despair. What chance did John Watson have against it? “Dying would be too merciful I guess. This is my punishment. Living the rest of my life with this pain. Living the rest of my life without you. I deserve it. It’s all my fault.” John Watson said, to the emptiness of the flat. *privately commissioned from miss grimay* -- source link
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