Jul 2013
I cannot miss what we never had.
Is anything truly ours to begin with?
I touch myself cause my hands are lonely.
I cry at night cause my eyes are not yours.
Is anything truly ours to begin with?
I touch myself cause my hands are lonely.
I cry at night cause my eyes are not yours.
restless, again
thinking of you
while listening to Tchaikovsky
thinking of you
while listening to Tchaikovsky
