I started a story, and I never remember to finish it.
2009 summer, Gold Coast the breeze from the sea is cold the music is warm who has composed this type of blue those hallucinations were the desperate last ditch of struggle of the flames of the sun before it died
I want to write you a poem a story only for you while I’m still alive
"Then you must remember, I was falling in love... →
lottekestner: i’m sorry if i hover near you, have you figured out that my hand never falls anywhere, that it is where i have put it, that in love there are no blind accidents, if you knew/ count the times we bump our shoes the way my drink makes me fall into you/ but what then am i to make of…
The way sadness works is one of the strangest riddles of the world.” - Lemony...