The me who didn’t know how to be thankful for love.
The me who thought that the end was the end.
To the image of you who wanted me to be, I fixed myself everyday.
I think my love will continue on forever.
Stopping the time, I go back to you.
I open this book of memories and I open up your page.
And in the book I’m in there, in there with you; the special
things that I met that winter.
No comments:
Post a Comment