There's something about the way he held my gaze in the car.
Something about the way his hand rested upon the small of my back.
There's something about the taste of his lips that keeps me awake until the sunrise.
Something about the way he smiles despite being so jaded.
There's something about him that I can't let go of.
YOU ARE READING
Desolate Moon (SS 2)
Poetrymore exhibitionism, more emotional outbursts, more uncomfortably uncut honesty. TRIGGER WARNING.
