2 March 2013
I try to think of a fond memory, of me, of us.
That night were we camped on a field. Lay all night talking, holding hands and watching my vanilla scented light burn down.
The night were we first kissed, and where we lay awake. Talking about the future. Constantly mentioning how much we loved each other. But know. As I look back, every time he tells me how beautiful I am. A tar-like substance is flowing out of mouth. Drowning his words.
Those words no longer mean anything to me. But they remind of a time where I felt loved, cared about and wanted.
He Said. A Long Time Ago... • Opuss № I