She stood behind the big glass window that was tinted with droplets of rain, letting her bright blue eyes scan the city lights carefully. Every household had its own problems, its own moments of joy, its own struggles and its own unique story. But his was her favorite, why she hadn't the slightest clue. He was broken so very broken, but yet he was a masterpiece.
Her forehead against the glass, her breathe frogging the window. She wondered if he was just as desperate to be here with her like she was with him. To hear his voice. To feel his warm skin against hers. To feel his affection. She held on to the blanket she had around her shoulders and wrapped it tightly around her self even more. The mere memory of how he caressed her cheek with his palm, soft skin against her, which was only a sign of affection to him, but to her, it was everything, rambled in her mind.
Did he feel the same? She wondered hard and long on that question. Tempted to ask him serval times but the question always faded as time with him was always in the moment. Nothing less, nothing more. She just wondered did he feel the same? Because to her he was everything. His touch so soft and gentle but it burned like a wild fire on her skin. His voice deep and raspy but sounded like music. His eyes where her favorite because in eyes was his heart. She saw it, she always saw it. He wasn't a open book rather a tightly closed one but when he was with her his eyes told a story.
And so she wondered once again, for the tenth time this cold night. Does he feel the same?
YOU ARE READING
BitterSweet
RomanceI will never be good enough for you, even if you are everything to me. [this book will not be edited until it's finished] [excuse the errors until then]
