We Broke Up After Eight Years And I Felt So Much Pain
Fire under my feet. Every callous whimpers, tortured by the white sand.
Fire under my feet. Every callous whimpers, tortured by the white sand.
The door was open, but she swung it much wider when she stumbled in.
I don’t want to start with an apology, but I feel like I should.
I don’t want to start with an apology, but I feel like I should.
You lock eyes for the first time and smile, but not in a love-at-first-sight way. You don’t swoon or sigh or put your life on hold to stand by the stranger.