You draw back your lips as soon mine touches yours.
This is a dream. Just the usual, reoccurring dream
Your embrace is the calmest tempest, my love.
Are we just little birds in a cage, after all?
I hear my fate crumbling. Please break these locks.
I choose not to see just black and white. This way it’s not as miserable as others may think.
If you believe we’d meet again next life, won’t you heal my scars?
Let’s meet in a season when Primulas bloom.
(Source: alittledecadence)
Reblogged from A little decadence.
December 08, 2011, 2:59pm
