“And then, you’d break his heart.’
‘I can’t ever think I could do that. I couldn’t break anyone’s heart.’
You look at me. The tempting colour of your eyes dilates into grey. A blank moment; a break in the cinematography.
At night, I can’t sleep because your smell lingers on me like cheap perfume.
What do I do, what do I do?
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
“And then, you’d break his heart.’
‘I can’t ever think I could do that. I couldn’t break anyone’s heart.’
You look at me. The tempting colour of your eyes dilates into grey. A blank moment; a break in the cinematography.
At night, I can’t sleep because your smell lingers on me like cheap perfume.
What do I do, what do I do?
Old prose from old memories.
