When the night's too cold
I wrote a short piece of original fiction. I don't usually like first or second point of view (hell, I actually skip them when I see; exception is romance books, dunno why), but this somehow - okay, I had a distinct idea before I wrote but, yeah, it basically wrote itself, as cliche as it sounds.
It's not raining anymore. You pass me on the street, rushing from one place to another. Is that how you live now?
I haven’t seen you handsome face for ages, hiding from guilt ridden memories.
Do you ever wonder what if? Do you long, whisper in the dark? Because I do, my lips split from life’s burdens.
Once I promised (you probably don’t remember while falling in oblivion with a drink in your hand) there will be forever.
Do you ever...? I wonder.
It's not raining anymore. You pass me on the street, rushing from one place to another. Is that how you live now?
I haven’t seen you handsome face for ages, hiding from guilt ridden memories.
Do you ever wonder what if? Do you long, whisper in the dark? Because I do, my lips split from life’s burdens.
Once I promised (you probably don’t remember while falling in oblivion with a drink in your hand) there will be forever.
Do you ever...? I wonder.