he used to bring in the most strongest waves of euphoria.

the sight of him, like a god, and falling into his arms,

feeling his skin,

smelling his smell,

holding his hand, his callouses under my fingertips,

kissing him.

used to, used to.

skateboarding now.

listening to the steady grind.

heated nights out in august, watching the sweat fall in beads to the pavement.

last night.

and the songs, the songs are


the summer. the sunsets.

the beaches.

the boy that has gone.

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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