That faint smell of yours, lingering in the cold fibres of my linen. The empty side of a double bed, wrinkled and unmade. Each time it’s the same routine,…… Read more “Tomorrow”
That faint smell of yours, lingering in the cold fibres of my linen. The empty side of a double bed, wrinkled and unmade. Each time it’s the same routine,…… Read more “Tomorrow”