It all used to be about you and me, all about how much we would love a life together. I'm the kind of person, the kind of women who never dream out of space, but you showed me life is always bigger than what you predict.
All my writing, all my ink, my hopes and fears were yours.
It is pointless kiss you when all you feel it's a warm bite on lip, when what your touch produce it's disgust in me.
I hope once we both could find again more than what we lost.
Maybe you already did.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
It all used to be about you and me, all about how much we would love a life together. I'm the kind of person, the kind of women who never dream out of space, but you showed me life is always bigger than what you predict.
All my writing, all my ink, my hopes and fears were yours.
It is pointless kiss you when all you feel it's a warm bite on lip, when what your touch produce it's disgust in me.
I hope once we both could find again more than what we lost.
Maybe you already did.
