Its gentle pitter-patter against my bedroom window brings me back to how I used to sneak out of our house just to spend a night with you at the park. You’d be in your usual graphic tee with that snapback worn backwards and a smile across your lips. You’d bring a bag of fries and we’d talk endlessly about random things until the sky shows faint cracks of light and we’d hurriedly head back hoping nobody noticed our little crime.
To the Guy I First Loved
Labels:
open letter,
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