Today, I smoked my last cigarette for you while I was staring at shades of green and lost love.
I inhaled my own emptiness wondering if I have already smoked my lungs to death.
I couldn't help but feel your touch as I took in the last moment of it all.
The touch of Butterscotch and Summertime.
I write because I'm in pain and over thinking things that don't need to be complicated.
Today I'm writing about love, because that is still what I feel for you.
My soul was covered in bruises and stitches.
One kiss of yours and my wounds were healed.
Now you're gone and my soul is forever weary and blue.
Blue, because that's the color of you.
I think blue will be my favorite color.
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
Today, I smoked my last cigarette for you while I was staring at shades of green and lost love.
I inhaled my own emptiness wondering if I have already smoked my lungs to death.
I couldn't help but feel your touch as I took in the last moment of it all.
The touch of Butterscotch and Summertime.
I write because I'm in pain and over thinking things that don't need to be complicated.
Today I'm writing about love, because that is still what I feel for you.
My soul was covered in bruises and stitches.
One kiss of yours and my wounds were healed.
Now you're gone and my soul is forever weary and blue.
Blue, because that's the color of you.
I think blue will be my favorite color.
