Thursday, 2 June 2011

I don’t talk with words. I speak with actions.
And all my movements talk about you.
All the perfect moments that stick with you,
they become memories and you can’t just dust them off…
Because they stick like cigarette smell on your clothes.
It lingers in the air just like my favourite perfume,
and drags me to bed like the invisible thread of sleep.
There’s no escaping the feeling; it’s excessively obvious.
It’s like sunbeam trying to conceal itself in the middle of summer
at noon.

(November 15 2010 @ McDonald's : 0425PM)

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