I hope she makes you smile, the way you made me smile at the other side of the phone when you told me you loved me all day long. I hope she stands on your feet while you dance to our song on repeat. I hope she tells you about her day while you curl your fingers around her hair. I hope you only stare at her while the rest of the crowd turns into a blur. I hope you tell all your friends about her, hope your father thinks she's the right girl. I hope you hold her hand on Saturday dates, hope you feel fireworks under your lashes when you lean in for a kiss. I hope you both feel a spark at end of the night. Hope she's part of your wildest dreams, hope you buy her a wedding ring and bend on one knee. And then when you think she'll stay-
I hope she leaves, just like you left me. And I hope it hurts like you can't breathe. I hope it makes your head spin in circles, hope it sucks the air out of your lungs. And I hope it hurts, hope it hurts like a burning amber inside of your chest...
YOU ARE READING
Her Favourite Color Is Yellow
PoetryA collection of poems and thoughts, my all-consuming love, my everything... How it feels to find love, to lose it and to get it back. Also a couple of letters to people who mean a lot to me.
