Saturday, September 5

The boy who PICKED me a flower which I lost

I craved long walks with you
I craved the smell of your hair
I craved the way you look and smile at me
I craved plucking those odd hair that is different from the rest
I craved your voice on the phone
I craved to be younger
I craved to be that fish that would not jump out of the tank 

All this, it proves something.

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