I still feel your chapped pink lips on mine, tasting like fresh lemonade on a hot day.
I still feel your hands running over my skin like a brush on canvas, painting a scene only we can see.
I still feel your hot breath on my ear, and your sweet lilac words, speaking nothing but little white lies.
I still feel my heart breaking every time I think of you, and how you left without saying goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a Dreamer
PoésieThey say you're a dreamer Cause your eyes are sewn shut And you've got your head in the clouds They say you're like sleeping beauty Never gonna wake up until your knight comes to kiss you But it's been ages and still no sign of that white horse and...
