one hundred seventy seven

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to me you were perfect,
your blonde curls,
how you would wear my glasses,
rendering me blinded.
the way you used to play with my hair,
and how
you would meet me
after every single class.
if only you could see me now,
how if you told me you were sorry
i would most likely take you back in a second

𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝Where stories live. Discover now