I miss you, but my sunburn hurts, and sometimes when I close my eyes in the bright light colours glow orange behind my eyelids and I think of you and your hair
I would split in Mandarin for you, I would peel it delicately and make sure it is the ripest one in the bunch and I would carefully and tenderly pick off the pith for you and I delivered it to you on your favourite plate
I miss you, and I love you and nothing is really over the same anymore
YOU ARE READING
Small Truths
RandomThis probably will never be finished It begins with chaotic me and bad "poetry" to god knows what It's like this horrible guilty secret. But it's me maturing infront of me. And I hold onto that
