there was a time when I could still feel your fingerprints running through my skin
now the wind blows fast and my face seems to recognise a glimpse of doubt in your eyes
however its direction changes quickly and I don't get a chance ...
this is it, time goes walking, running, flying, it escapes from both of us.
like a fistful of sand (the bravery)
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta mio. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta mio. Mostrar todas las entradas
viernes, 28 de noviembre de 2008
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