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Literature Text
Tart, crisp, spreading against my tongue as
steaming water burns my hands as
one thumb digs into one wrist as
a song that doesn't remind me of you plays as
a song that reminds me of you echoes inside my head and
wakes me up
too early
steaming water burns my hands as
one thumb digs into one wrist as
a song that doesn't remind me of you plays as
a song that reminds me of you echoes inside my head and
wakes me up
too early
I hate early mornings. Especially alone.
© 2014 - 2024 MrDest
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