Altri che potrebbero piacerti
i wrote you a song,
that you sang yourself to sleep with.
now i sing that song to the skies hoping you’ll hear,
and sing back to me through the whistling of the wind in autumn.
wait,
it’s winter now.
i drown myself in the cold numbing myself of your existence.
but somehow through the numbness i can feel snowflakes soak into my skin like you did.
the world falls white.
i no longer can see you through the skies,
or hear you sing to me.
you left me in the cold (via localloveletters)
… Racconte a tutti “Che troia è la sorte”, senza dire che però è vostra figlia…
Alain Delon de Lenn (via ilconiglioparlante)