The tenderness you gave while you touched me,
The time when our hands tied to each other as we knew there was no other day,
The mixed signal you always give,
The love of friendship you put me into,
The promise you never give,
The hope that is as stupid as I wished upon a star to meet you again.
YOU ARE READING
Drafted Memories
PoetryThere was a dark grey summer sky, but somehow he put colours on it (Including black).
