kuyauncle
Hands clasped. Not with someone else. Just mine. Making a shape of a heart to symbolize us. Or is it a potato? Potato love.
Fairy dust? I don't need any. I make my own magic happen.
The words coming out of my mouth are not a statement. They are an exclamation, bursting from my lungs into your eardrums the pain, the memories. Trembling I can barely stand.
Have you ever wondered what it would be like if we were together? Distance separates us until time unites us.