Few words said over a wooden table with a dying flower in the middle. The objects we don't pay attention to, the seats and stories that were told before we sat down and blubbered the words we needed to - just to let go...
I was here before you were, my heart was broken, I'm fine on my own...
I love myself -
(I loved you more).
Just few words said over a wooden table with a dying flower in the middle -
stories longing.
- Alex Antally 🌸
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