I know the way your eyes feel,
when they’re grazing my eyes.
I miss having no reason
to distrust your simile.
Why am I so accustomed
to letting it all die
when you only gave me chances to love our pink sky.
I know the way your eyes feel,
when they’re grazing my eyes.
I miss having no reason
to distrust your simile.
Why am I so accustomed
to letting it all die
when you only gave me chances to love our pink sky.