Red lips, black blood, white death. Rosie closed the eyes of her best friend who had stopped breathing in her arms. She standed up and took the blonde to her new bed, someone might have called it grave, she cried non-stop and under the moonlight and stars Rosie rested next to her.
The worst part of all was the sunrise, Rosie opened her eyes like every morning, but she knew that the blonde will never do it again. Rosie was still breathing but she felt like she died that day next to her.
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Excerpts From My Brain
AléatoirePalabras jamás dichas, sueños robados, recuerdos que aún duelen y fantasías de mi mente que no serán vistas por nadie pero son publicadas para sacarme el dolor del pecho.
