Who could imagine that your pink lips would be so dark while you’re talking.
Who could imagine that the shine of your hair would blind me.
Who could imagine that the honey draining from your eyes would have such a bitter taste.
Who could imagine that your soft hand touch would scratch.
I certainly wouldn’t imagine that the person who I dared to trust the most would be the one to tear me apart.
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 12:10 PM UTC
Who could imagine that your pink lips would be so dark while you’re talking.
Who could imagine that the shine of your hair would blind me.
Who could imagine that the honey draining from your eyes would have such a bitter taste.
Who could imagine that your soft hand touch would scratch.
I certainly wouldn’t imagine that the person who I dared to trust the most would be the one to tear me apart.
