Sometimes, I wish to see you.
Just stand from a distance, but not too far that it will be tough to close the gap; to offer you a cup of cold coffee beneath the skin of the raging sun – the temptation to actually tell you it is my hand I die to give rather than the drink.
Just weave stories that we could have had; to spill the sweetest secrets and lies we have been keeping – hoping it will return the blooming roses of Spring.
Sometimes, I fear I will see you – and, once again, feel why we always fail.
WORD COUNT: 100
Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.