@Chamomile
more from that month
Hurts
Our pink sky is no longer black and white. My old days haunt me. To me, love was just an empty sheet of paper, ‘twas nothing. ‘Twas just a plain shirt, if didn't fit me, it's alright. But when it's you, who was entitled "mine", Became a masterpiece written in an empty sheet, the more I love you, the more it hurts. Your words are precious yet painful. It was me who crafted a piece about you. No, it was my love who wrote about you. It was really easy at first. It was easy to make a start, but now it's hard to end. What should I do? I am making you want to leave. Do I deserve to be alone again like I used to? If you hate me the way I am, I hate myself more than you do. But Babe, losing you would really suck.
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