and if only you knew how much she did love you when it lasted, you wouldn't have left. maybe. probably.
THE GIRL WHO SPIT FLOWERS.
a poetry narration book.
seopresso, 2017.
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the clouds were pretty. white amongst all the blues. i tried searching for my comfort, my serenity, my happiness amongst all those lows.
you walked back with me to my abode, just like you did for the last eight years. every day, a new and glorious experience.
today was one of the most remarkable one. you pulled me into you, as a car zoomed past. roaring down the lane, faster than the wind.
my heart beat a little bit faster. my eyes darted to its best peripheral vision to see your arms holding me tight and protected.
did you always smell this good? of the finest coniferous forests and the breeziest winds.
the pit in stomach, deeper than ever. my eyes fluttered shut, momentarily. please, let this last. you looked down at me. that stupid smile of yours plastered.
are you alright? you had me scared there. don't say that to me. don't say that to me and expect me to not fall in love.
