mgray129
I remember him fondly. In every dream, he comes to me. I picture is blue eyes the moment they met mine and all I think about is the kiss that never happened. The story that never got told. I leave my imagination to do my living for me. I dream of him and I running the streets of Paris, madly inlove, kissing, drinking wine, but all I have are the memories of his blue eyes.
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dreamblueeyesrememberfondlypicturemomentmetkisshappenedstoryimaginationlivingrunningstreetsparis