Park benches, coffee, and cigarettes
A morning picture with you
Sometimes a book in hand, with my head on your lap and we would call it a nice day
On rainy days, we would curl up on the couch
Blanket wrapped around us, and I would wear your most coveted gray hoodie.
Switching tv channels, we would never find something interesting enough to watch
We'd instead nap and still call it a nice day
We went to a Sunday mass once even if I never prayed since my grandma died
I never believed much in anything,
Not even in angels nor the saints
But I wanted to believe you're a blessing.
That Sunday was such a nice day
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 1:16 AM UTC
Park benches, coffee, and cigarettes
A morning picture with you
Sometimes a book in hand, with my head on your lap and we would call it a nice day
On rainy days, we would curl up on the couch
Blanket wrapped around us, and I would wear your most coveted gray hoodie.
Switching tv channels, we would never find something interesting enough to watch
We'd instead nap and still call it a nice day
We went to a Sunday mass once even if I never prayed since my grandma died
I never believed much in anything,
Not even in angels nor the saints
But I wanted to believe you're a blessing.
That Sunday was such a nice day