His scent worn into the fabric Smile worn into my head Records scratch as snow falls and laughs echo off the walls Soaked sheets hold the goodbyes never spoken Seagulls sing the songs of your journey Dancing in the basement of my old house Playing the memories like a broken tape The feelings a faded […]
His scent worn into the fabric Smile worn into my head Records scratch as snow falls and laughs echo off the walls Soaked sheets hold the goodbyes never spoken Seagulls sing the songs of your journey Dancing in the basement of my old house Playing the memories like a broken tape The feelings a faded
Sarah’s fingers traced the worn armrest, feeling every groove and imperfection. The leather was cracked in places, softened by years of use. She breathed in deeply, catching a faint whiff of pipe tobacco – his scent still lingering after all this time. The chair stood in its usual spot by the window, bathed in afternoon
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