the runaway sun.
the touch of your tongue
in my ear
as you whisper
sweet nothings
is becoming
a fading
memory
of what
i ache
to still
feel
burning
in the pit of
my stomach
as the
nervous
flutters
from your
distance
subside
into the calm.
in my ear
as you whisper
sweet nothings
is becoming
a fading
memory
of what
i ache
to still
feel
burning
in the pit of
my stomach
as the
nervous
flutters
from your
distance
subside
into the calm.


1 Comments:
Oh God yes!
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