Your hands running up and down my cold back and up to my frozen neck.
My hands running through your soft brown hair. Sometimes drifting down your warm back.
When our eyes meet it feels like gorgeous fireworks explode between us.
We act like we're each other's but never say anything about it.
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...
