Its 7:18 am. My curtains are still tinted with a faint shade of blue. it's a gentle battle out there, between light and the mere abscence of it. Placid. Souls are still strangers to their skin and blood. Refusing to imprisoned themselves amongst bones. Dark iris are still dancing behind glazy eyelids. And i'm still wishing that you're mine. Because darling, the shit we do together could warm the sun.
Comments
Post a Comment