At this hour, I remembered your face like it was a nostalgic film of a lover from the past. Except that we were not lovers, nor do we have a past.
We are just strangers passing by each other at the campus not knowing one of us is secretly blushing and smiling.
YOU ARE READING
Marie
PoetryJust a bunch of letters for the girl from the past. I moved on and healed but I want to publish the letters I wrote while still loving you.
