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,
used to, used to.
listening to the steady grind.
heated nights out in august, watching the sweat fall in beads to the pavement.
and the songs, the songs are
the summer. the sunsets.
the boy that has gone.
Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien