i miss your rosette lips that used to utter little white lies on my ears. it was unforgiving, yet it was the lifeline my hands grasp tightly on. i seem to drown on those sweet words, keeping myself on the shadows because it was the only truth my ears wanted to [hear]
i miss your aristocratic nose. i could feel your breath dancing on the pulse of my neck, as you intoxicate yourself with its lavender scent. your skin the color of the cinnamon latte we used to indulge ourselves in every september mornings.
with you gone, the sun has set and the brutal reality dawned upon me. no arms to hold my body in the late evening breeze. no mouth to kiss my cupid's bow and my tear-stained cheek.
how i wish i could go back to the confinements of september, when we use to lay together on bed, just waiting for the day to end. when you used to whisper those three little words, the lies you used to [said]
