5月17日

when will I forget…

the littlest things I miss the most?

the tiny mole that sits shyly on your collarbone

and your tousled curls against your cheeks

 

when shall I be free . . .

of your crooked smile and that tiny crease between your brows?

            of the memory of you …

dancing your victory dance?

and of  your sleepy morning mumbles

 

all too soon,

the little things I loved the most …

your hand devouring mine

your scent drowning mine

 

are now things that hurt me most.

イサベラ

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