Do you realise that my eyes look like the ash that was left behind when we burnt the remains of your mother's clothes? Maybe you do, because you're stepping forward now and your hand is slowly reaching towards my face.
YOU ARE READING
Bittersweet
Короткий рассказ"You were never meant to be more than a bittersweet memory; an unforgettable aftertaste."
✿ Fifty-Eight
Do you realise that my eyes look like the ash that was left behind when we burnt the remains of your mother's clothes? Maybe you do, because you're stepping forward now and your hand is slowly reaching towards my face.