lost || m.c

quatre

dear cora,

i saw him at the park today; he was lovely.

he had his flannel unbuttoned on top of a black shirt and his hair stuck to his face in the wind.

the cold air made his lips crack and his skin red.

his eyes, a sharp green, were always lost in thought.

i like that phrase, cora; 'lost in thought.' compared to him, it was a contradicting phrase. he was always metaphorically lost in thought, but never in a literal sense.

unlike him, i was always lost.

i'm still lost, cora.

i can't find myself anymore.

-
a/n: i already have this prewritten in my notes oops

xx e.