A Few Hundred Poppies
The room came alive with the purity and intimacy of both the song and two messed up kids trying to slow dance their way out of petty shit and into something real.
The fallen locks of my hair delicately cradled my cheeks. West tucked them behind my ear with nimble fingers, letting his knuckles graze my cheeks so softly that I closed my eyes.
"You know something? There's this dream that I keep dreaming, over and over again, where I'm in heaven. There's a river there, with stars on its bed. I think it's a metaphor for your eyes," West breathed, leaving me too shocked to think anything, let alone make fun of his corniness.
Sikat na Kabanata