Rainy Sunday Afternoons
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
eleven
It doesn’t even matter if I know it’s temporary. I’ll sit here and imagine forever. And that’ll be the death of me. I’m irresponsibly in love with the future; only, you can't get to the future if you miss the present.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment