green tea kisses
Eden May, pretty name, pretty face. Pale green eyes that came straight out of a digital painting, and honey hair that framed her face as if it were a photo, which it were. It was a photo that would always be stamped in my mind, one that hung like a reminder of what could have been if only things had been different.
Eden May, warm name, cold skin. She was always cold, always craving my warmth. Maybe that's what went wrong, maybe she needed someone who wasn't as warm as I was, maybe I burnt her. Maybe her eyes melted into the green tea she was drinking when I first met her, or perhaps it had nothing to do with me. Maybe it was all her, maybe my love was too much. . . I wish I was able to ask her, to see her one last time. To run my fingertips over her skin, my lips gently brushing against hers. . . is that so much to ask?