The day we met in the small coffee shop and he made me smile from ear to ear and had my cheeks rosy red. He is: A row of colourful, carefully arranged flowers is what he looks like. That drink of water after a long run is what he makes me feel like. All of my favourite songs, one after another, the ones I never get tired of hearing - that is his voice. Touching my lips on his, always feels as if I am kissing the clouds and dancing on rainbows. The way he always smells like a good combination of sweet and sour. He is lovely. He is charming. He is beautiful. He is the boy I know. That day he came home with a smile and left with his bags and me with tears to wipe off my cheeks. He is: A row of dead flowers. That feeling when you need a drink of water during your long run. All of those favourite songs I got tired of hearing because they reminded me of his voice. Those clouds that I thought would feel like his lips and the rainbows I wished I wouldn't see again. The sour smell when he walked out that door without even saying why. He was lovely. He was charming. He was beautiful. He is the boy I once knew.
ms #10 (shitty) things I wrote about you(r shitty self).