Window open, rushing air
The last time I felt this was when my hands ran through his hair
But that's gone and i'm left with the waste
Open road in front of me and i can still remember how your lips taste
YOU ARE READING
Poems for the lost
شِعرA book of poems for people just trying to find out who they are written by someone trying to find out who they are. Hopefully a story of growth and dreams.
