His lips, grazed my cheek.
His eyes, bright and happy.
His hands, tangled. One by his side, one below my rip cage.
His thoughts, clouded.. yet clear.
His hands, one now removed from his side and placed firmly on my jaw. The other turning me to face him.
His lips, clashed against mine.
But most of all...
Himself, belonging to another woman. But his lips landing on mine.. not hers.
YOU ARE READING
This Dying Love
RandomLove is dying. Love is hurting. Love is boring. Love is searching for something new. Love is simply love. This book isn't just about love. Its about the good times and the bad times. And everything in between. This is a personal journal at most. D...
