Everything
was cold.
My eyes were
shut,
and my chest
still burns.
"Hoseok? Hoseok!"
you yelled,
as your voice came
nearer.
You never learn.
I flinched
when you touched me,
because it felt
like you haven't
touched me
for years.
I opened my eyes,
and saw your face.
Your eyes—
filled with worry
and concern.
YOU ARE READING
tourist ⇨ min + jung
Poetry❝listen closely, sweetpea. kiss him if you want to; but keep this in mind- you are just a tourist in his life. I was his first love, and I'll be his last.❞ (inspired by lang leav's "borrowed love".)
