I remember the taste of his mouth.
His breathe close my ear and his body against mine.
I remember his heat.
Around me, over me, inside me.
I remember the sound of his voice and the words he whispered.
I remember everything.
Every detail, every touch, every feeling.
And, most of all, I remember how it could've been love if it wasn't violence.
YOU ARE READING
Random Bad Poetry About Me.
PoetryTW: Poesia ruim sobre minhas experiências de vida. (não leve nada escrito aqui a sério, não vale a pena)
