The white ceiling and the blue gown, wrapped in needles, where my breaths are measured and lifespan is estimated. The beats were louder and lips cracked, devoid of love.
They say soul escapes as you die but mine decayed when she and I parted our ways. A crooked path is not similar to a crooked smile.
أنت تقرأ
The lost times || Completed
القصة القصيرةThey loved each other it was true except for one thing TIME
