too many ways to ask
flood my subconscious,
too many girls
who don't like him like I do,
too many voices in my head
telling me that he'd never
dance
with someone like
me.
YOU ARE READING
blinded
Poetryshe was blinded by his perfection. he was too blind to realise. ☁ [copyright simile-, two thousand and fourteen] #140 in Poetry | #904 in Romance
