He was there
His hair slicked back
A grey sweater on
Despite how nice he acts
He felt cold
And I was afraid,
I watched my every move
Careful not to tick his emotions
good,
this way, there's no way I'd fall for him
~
YOU ARE READING
Cerulean
PoesíaIt felt like a dream I can't quite grasp. all that's left are memories short story / poetry about an experience I had. I'm being true to how I felt back then, but mixing it with how I feel about it as I write. (Currently in no particular order)
