Its exhausting to keep writing about the same things-summer,betrayal,him.This October,I crave my dear ones and solitude.I want hours on end just to myself, reading,writing but most importantly dreaming.Its funny how the autumn chill could hit me while its 31°C outside and choke me enough to confess.In the season of little sleep,I dream of yellow,red and ofcourse, home.
YOU ARE READING
meet me in the afterglow
Poetry~white flowers and love letters you say I'm yours forever but it don't feel romantic somehow~
