The birds are singing, I know it's your favorite song. I still make your cup of coffee, but it sits there on your spot on the bench, growing cold, and I toss it out when morning comes, only to pour you another cup, another cup I know you won't drink. My old wrinkled fingers shake as I pull the string to your fourth letter.
Remember our first "real" date? Our picnic in the woods? And we stayed out till dusk, and shared secrets under the stars? I remember when your lips met mine, and I felt myself drown under your mouth. The first time we made out. We were fifteen. You caressed my cheek, and ran your fingers through my hair, you pulled me closer, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't get enough of you. And after that, we laid in each others arms on the picnic blanket, and told secrets until the stars almost burnt out, but we never burnt out, we still haven't. Love, Yours Forever
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Letters To Someone
General FictionHighest rank in General Fiction- #882 "I've always loved these kinds of days, I know you do too. Remember when we sat here on the porch, and drank our coffee in these mugs? I told you my deepest secret, and you never judged me. This swing on the po...
