Oh, to sit in a quaint little coffee shop with you, on a chilly winter evening, watch you talk of the time when you won those countless medals in some competition whose name I don't even remember because I was busy staring at that subtle dimple on your left cheek, hearing the excitement in your voice making my heart flutter, your hands on the table unknowingly playing with my fingers as your eyes remain fixated on mine while we wait for our coffee to cool down, your cold fingers would intertwine with my warm ones and I would build a whole world; an alternate universe where we keep reliving that moment over and over again and I would look at your beautiful eyes again, hold you again, laugh at your stupid jokes again and wait for the coffee to cool down all over again so I could hear you speak and fall a little more into love than the last time.
179 notes
·
View notes
Amar desde la ausencia de ser amado, dar desde los vacíos de no haber recibido mucho.
2 notes
·
View notes