Oct 2017
Yellow, ochre, orange-
I count the colours through the window.
Like pretty Instagram filters, but warmer and soothing.
I can see the Sun, through the textured window and it's wooden bars
Only to realize, nothing beats this feeling of dripping raxeira through every inch of my skin--
Nothing... except YOU.
I count the colours through the window.
Like pretty Instagram filters, but warmer and soothing.
I can see the Sun, through the textured window and it's wooden bars
Only to realize, nothing beats this feeling of dripping raxeira through every inch of my skin--
Nothing... except YOU.
I write for my lost love. I write for the love yet to reach out. What do you write about? Tell me.
