It must be love, love, love.

“Fuck, when she left in the mornin’ it was like the clouds appeared.  She come home again–sunshine.  Just the sight of her.  The smell of her, the taste of her, the touch of her.  It’s like a knife…an’ all I wanna do’s keep pushing it into meself.” –  Billy Butcher, from The Boys Vol. 10: Butcher, Baker, Candlestickmaker by Garth Ennis

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